


Folly of Youth

by BelladonnaWyck, raiast



Series: Dionysus [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Blatant Misuse of Empathy, Bratty Will Graham, CamDaddy Hannibal, Camsites, Cock Cages, D/s themes, Daddy Dom Hannibal Lecter, Dark Will Graham, Dirty Talk, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Chastity, Hannibal Lecter is a Cannibal, Hannibal Lecter is the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal is 40, Impact Play, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Mild Angst, Mildly Dubious Consent, Murder Talk, Orgasm Denial, Overstimulation, Pornography, Punishment, Slut Shaming, Subdrop, Webcams, Will Finds Out, Will is 16, Young Will Graham, cliffhanger ending, forced rimming, slight humiliation, wet dreams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BelladonnaWyck/pseuds/BelladonnaWyck, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raiast/pseuds/raiast
Summary: Will Graham was bored. Not just any kind of bored; he wasfuckingbored, which could prove very dangerous for a boy such as himself. Unfortunately for his tutor, boredom - when it couldn’t be dispelled with a quick jerk-off session and a nap - often left Will feeling needlessly cruel.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Dionysus [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621633
Comments: 94
Kudos: 422





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags for this one! Everything that happens in this story _is_ consensual, but there is an underage tag since this entire first installment happens while Will is 16. Tags will update with each chapter. Enjoy!

Will Graham was bored. Not just any kind of bored; he was _fucking_ bored, which could prove very dangerous for a boy such as himself. Unfortunately for his tutor, boredom - when it couldn’t be dispelled with a quick jerk-off session and a nap - often left Will feeling needlessly cruel.

“Are you even paying attention, Will?”

He was, but only just, his eyes trained out the window as a pair of squirrels chased each other doggedly up and down the large oak along the edge of their property. He declined to answer, but shifted his gaze from the window to the stout man across the table from him languidly. He perched his chin in his hand and barely reigned in the instinctive desire to sigh out his discontent.

“Sorry, Mr. Morganstern,” he lied easily, though his flat tone did little to support the falsity, and good ol’ Jeff didn’t appear to buy it in the least. “I just don’t see the point in focusing on this topic. Wouldn’t my time be better spent learning another language? Or working on advancing in Calculus or… _something_ that isn’t...useless?”

“History is hardly _useless_ , Will,” his tutor scoffed with a roll of his eyes, as though he couldn’t _believe_ Will’s nerve for daring to label it as such.

“ _Regular_ history, sure. Know where you come from and learn from the past and all that. But this stuff is...oddly specific.”

Jeff’s lips twisted into the patronizing smiling that made Will want to strike out at him, to wipe it away. “It may _seem_ that way to you, but you should know I would never waste your time on anything that wouldn’t be beneficial to you, Will. I, _myself_ , received my Masters in pre-colonial British history, and -”

“Why?”

His tutor blinked at him as though Will was speaking gibberish. “I’m not quite sure what you mean -”

He couldn’t stop the cruel smirk that twisted his lips as he huffed out a chuckle. “I mean _why_. Why would you waste two years - Christ, at _least_ two years - dedicating your focus to something so useless? Just...I mean what the fuck do you even _do_ with that kind of degree? Go curate at one of the three museums in the country related to that field?”

Jeff sat tall upon Will’s attack, his usual professional grace and patience fleeing him as he outright _scowled_ at Will. “I assure you that there are _plenty_ of opportunities to be taken advantage of with my degree, including -”

“Including tutoring some rich little shit with no interest in your knowledge and even _less_ respect for you as a person?” Will quirked his eyebrow, casually leaning back in his chair and revelling in the expression of absolute _shock_ on his tutor’s face. 

He watched as it morphed from befuddlement to embarrassment to outrage. Within a minute, Jeffrey Morganstern was shoving his chair away from the table with a screech, desperately attempting to affect a stoic expression as he stared down Will and sniffed. “Quite right. If I’d wanted to deal with petulant children all day I’d have taken up teaching kindergarten.”

Jeff gathered his books from the table with a huff, shoving them into the messenger bag that he’d brought with him and hauling the tote over his shoulder.

“Kindergarten would suit you, Jeff,” Will called to his retreating back as he slouched down in his chair, utterly amused. “I think you’d just _thrive_ amongst your peers.”

The only answer he received was the slamming of the front door, and only then did Will allow his smile to break free completely. Two tutors out and he’d only been on summer break for four weeks. He was liable to hit a record this summer if things continued in this fashion.

With his afternoon suddenly free, and his father not likely to return home for at _least_ a few more days - Beau owned practically the entire Gulf Coast oil supply, after all, and was frequently absent for _weeks_ at a time visiting sites and dealing with politics - Will was able to move on to his most trusty method of dispelling boredom.

No one could really blame a sixteen-year-old boy for retiring to his bedroom to pull up some porn, could they? He was a virgin, but his pure brand of empathy - the same empathy that he seldom used for acts of kindness, far more likely to turn it cruelly back against others - also allowed him to slip seamlessly into the mind of anyone. Including porn actors. It was invigorating to get off that way, almost like he could pretend it was himself in the videos, with the right assortment of toys.

When he’d stumbled across _The Conqueror_ \- a ridiculous name but with an incredibly hot older man attached to it - Will could hardly believe his luck. He must have been forty at least, maybe older, with a broad, heavily-haired chest, sharp cheekbones, and eyes the color of warm whiskey; the sort of man that Will had only ever fantasized about, not imagined that he could actually exist in the flesh. 

Will clicked on his profile without hesitation, dismissing the button that asked if he was sure he was eighteen or older, and entered the website. 

According to his biography, the man was a full time professional, wine aficionado and cooking enthusiast. He had photos ranging from tasteful nudes to far kinkier scenes, sometimes with other people, where he seemed to always be the one in charge. 

Will was a virgin but he was also a horny teenager. He’d heard of such things before: bondage, submission. This man was a proclaimed _daddy dom_ , which Will could hazard a guess at the meaning of. He detailed that he was unattached, but currently not seeking a boy.

After he finished with photos he decided to venture into the only free video that was available on the site without entering payment details. 

He skipped through the first few minutes of the man disrobing methodically, an almost soothing rhythm to the motions of his hands as he meticulously folded each article of clothing and set them aside. Will’s mouth went dry as the man’s broad chest was bared, his fingers itching with the desire to bury themselves in the greying rug of hair that covered his pecs. Will knew his particular attraction to the older male demographic probably, quite predictably, reflected his own lack of paternal influence and attention in his life - and rightly so; Will couldn’t even recall the last time he and his father had engaged in a conversation longer than ten minutes.

He didn’t want to _fuck_ his father - certainly not - but all the same he couldn’t deny the draw that he felt to capturing the attention of an older man; to find someone to extend their time and effort to him, to offer him guidance, both in life and in love. He watched the perfect specimen of a man - somehow both broad and lean, delicate and predatory - as he settled onto the bed in the camera’s view, leaning his back against the headboard and stretched out leonine against the exquisite looking sheets.

“Come to me, sweet boy,” the man purred; Will’s cock gave a fierce twitch at the surprising sound of his accent, vaguely European and deep, thick. To his surprise, the camera moved closer, a few shaky steps toward the edge of the bed before settling more fully on the man stretched out there. 

The man took his cock in hand, already half-hard, and began a few languid strokes as his sharp amber eyes pierced the camera. Will watched as the man’s arousal swelled, filling out quickly until his red, shining cockhead was revealed with each downward drag of his foreskin. “Is this why you’ve sought me out?” He asked the camera - asked Will. “Do you long to be filled by your Daddy?”

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Will murmured, his own hand slipping beneath the band of his boxers to palm at his thickening cock.

“Do you think you deserve this cock? Have you been a good boy?”

The camera moved up and down in a nod even as Will’s breath hitched on a hissed, “ _Yes…_ ” His hand tightened on his throbbing dick. He increased his pace, his moan masking the next low words from the man, but his hand was reaching out and the camera was moving, its operator climbing onto the bed to straddle the silver fox, so he wagered whatever was said must have been an invitation.

The Conqueror’s eyes slid shut as the camera shifted and then settled, the low rumble of a groan sounding from his chest as his hands reached forward to grasp the waist of the boy atop him. His eyes pulled up to the camera, heavy-lidded and practically _glowing_. “You feel exquisite, darling. So hot and tight around me. Such a good boy for Daddy.”

He could tell the exact moment the camera operator began to writhe on the man’s cock for a variety of reasons; the camera rocked slow and steady, the slick sounds of flesh sliding and slapping together began to increase, and the man let out a low purr of approval, his head tipping back as his mouth went slack with pleasure. 

It was possibly the most erotic thing Will had ever seen, and he wasn’t even afforded a view of the man’s cock being buried into the ass of whoever was lucky enough to sit astride him. He grew close to orgasm embarrassingly quickly listening to the man’s pleasure, and had to pause the video and fumble for the lube he kept in his nightstand.

Will repositioned his laptop to sit on the bed, sitting before it on his knees, and stroked against his rim with slick fingers. When he could comfortably slide two of them in, he restarted the video. He rocked down on his fingers, doing his best to match the steady rhythm of the camera; once he had more or less mastered that, he brought his other hand back up to stroke his cock.

“I’m going to come inside you, sweet boy,” the man murmured, his accent thick and words breathy. “I’m going to fill you up, just as you like.”

“Oh, Jesus _fuck_ \- _Yes,_ Daddy!” Will cried out, his cock pulsing as he came, his vision hazing around the edges, barely managing the wherewithal to capture his release in his hand, rather than splashing all over his computer. _Fuck_.

\---

In retrospect, Will knew it was ill-advised to use his father’s credit card to set up an account so he could subscribe to The Conqueror’s stream on the cam site. He just didn’t care.

He deftly entered all of his father’s payment information and then clicked through the authorization screens. He was finally brought back to the subscription page for the man - the Daddy - and he clicked the button fast enough to nearly make him cringe with embarrassment. 

The next video in the lineup was a solo video, the man immaculately dressed in what was certainly an exorbitantly priced custom suit, his legs spread wide and cock straining against the soft black fabric of his suit pants. Will wanted to know what the material would feel like beneath his own fingertips, beneath his cheek while he laid his head in his Daddy’s lap. He wanted to feel the man hot and hard beneath him while he straddled his lap, rutted against his heavily-haired stomach.

“Would you like to see what thinking of you has done to me, darling boy?” The man palmed at the clear outline of his erection, spreading his legs even wider, his knees resting against the arms of the chair, feet in shining Italian leather shoes set flat on the floor. He looked imposing, like his namesake - a conqueror. Someone to be revered. Will wanted to feel his toned body pressed firmly to his own, weighing him down and boxing him in. 

Will groaned, nodding his head silently, fervently, as his cock throbbed between his nude thighs. He was in bed, sitting atop the covers, his clothes scattered all over the room. He had the passing thought that the man wouldn’t approve of the mess, but he was quickly distracted by the sound of a zipper being drawn down. 

He looked back raptly at the video to see The Conqueror’s pants being pushed open and his already hard cock being pulled from the confines, wet at the tip. “Daddy’s in his office, working, but he can’t stop thinking about his good boy. Have you been good for me today, little love?” 

Again, Will found himself nodding along to the question, a soft _”Yes, Daddy”_ muttered under his breath. He’d never been so aroused so quickly, his cock hard and leaking, foreskin pulling back with each downward stroke as he wrapped a hand around himself to just lightly tease. He didn’t want to come too quickly this time.

“I know you have, sweet thing. Why don’t you get yourself ready for Daddy while I watch?” It was framed as a question but Will felt an almost magnetic pull in his chest, compelling him to reach for the lube he’d sat on the bedside table. His dildo laid on the pillow to his right, also ready for when he might need it. 

He pushed the laptop further up the bed and got onto his hands and knees. It wasn’t the most comfortable position for fingering himself, but he would make it work so he could keep watching the man stroke himself at a slow, leisurely pace. His cock was so wet he could just make out the faint slide of the man’s palm along his pre-come soaked skin, turning Will’s arousal from simmering to an inferno. 

He popped the cap on the bottle and squeezed a liberal amount out onto two of his fingers, propping himself on his left elbow as he reached behind and rubbed against his rim, coating it with the lubricant. He slipped just the tip of his middle finger into his hole, feeling it clench and try to pull him in further. 

A heady greed seized in his belly, and Will forced the finger further, teasing already with a second, desperate - _so desperate_ \- to be full.

“Slowly, darling,” the man in the video urged softly, as though he had an insight straight to Will and his impatience through the screen; as though they were actually facing each other. “Your eagerness is intoxicating, but we wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, would we?”

Will was already panting with arousal, his leaking cock aching as he deliberately ignored it.

“Just one, for now,” the Conqueror added, as though he could see Will already teasing his second digit closer to pushing inside. He obeyed, and focused only on the one finger stretching him, working it in and out slowly despite the fervent adolescent _need_ attempting to urge his pace onwards.

He continued at the pace dictated to him, so ready to add the second finger by the time it was bid of him that he moaned over the next words the man spoke. Despite not even having been granted permission to stroke himself, Will found he was climbing higher and higher towards orgasm quicker than he would like. The older man’s hooded gaze, his sultry tone, was enough to have Will writhing on his fingers, whining for release. He found his attention drawn to the man’s surroundings, desperate to find a distraction while riding the edge of release for as long as possible, and that’s when he saw it.

Just over the man’s shoulder, light spilled through the gauzy curtains that framed the window in his office. Beyond that window, a very familiar set of spires. Will’s pace faltered as his mind raced, and all at once he found himself fumbling to pause the video to take a closer look without the distraction of the Conqueror’s voice. The longer he looked, the more assured he felt in his deduction. The window in the man’s office apparently afforded a view of the belltowers of the Basilica.

Holy _fuck_ and Sweet Baby Jesus. This man was in _Baltimore._

An incomparable _ache_ filled Will at the revelation, his desire amplified ten-fold. Somewhere in the city, this absolute perfect Daddy was out there. And with no boy to fill his attention. Will resolved then and there to find a way to this man, to claim him for himself, and to give all of himself in turn.

Will had never truly considered the possibility of _fate_ or some _Grand Plan_ , but if this revelation hadn’t already been enough to assure his belief, what happened next absolutely was. A small pop-up blipped to life in the corner of his screen.

‘ _The Conqueror is online now!  
Click here to request a private chat!  
$0.99/min after the first five minutes_’

Will didn’t even realize he’d clicked on the message until his screen was being redirected to a chat log.

_The Conqueror: Good evening. I see you are a new user to my page. Welcome._

Will’s mouth went dry, his mind reeling with his empathy as he imagined he could hear every word spoken directly to him in the welcome, inviting accent of the voice that’d brought him to so much delirious pleasure. He could almost feel the curls tucked behind his ears stir with a warm puff of air expelled against his skin, the man’s breath heady and hot where it tickled his oversensitive flesh.

He hastily wiped his lube-covered hand on his bedsheets to free them for typing, forcefully shaking himself from his mental imaginings. 

_YoungDionysus: Hi. Yeah, I saw your free vid and couldn’t help signing up  
YoungDionysus: you are so fucking sexy_

He waited, his heart thrumming in his chest and stomach clenched tight as he stared at the alert that showed the streamer was typing.

_The Conqueror: While I appreciate and am flattered by the sentiment, I must ask that you refrain from such crass language while chatting with me._

Will cursed softly to himself at the misstep, embarrassment flooding through him. Of course this fucking European sex god would have _manners_.

_YoungDionysus: yeah, sure. Sorry. Nervous I guess_

_The Conqueror: You need not be. I am simply a man on the other side of your computer screen; you may talk to me as such. Your apology is accepted._

_YoungDionysus: So...it’s nighttime where you are? What time is it?_

Will knew, of course, what time it was, considering they shared not only the same time zone but the same city. He just needed a precursor to the conversation, something to cement them on familiar ground before he could attempt to sway the man into meeting with him.

_The Conqueror: I do not see how the time is relevant to our conversation._

_YoungDionysus: Night just fell here. I’m EST. Maryland. You?_

_The Conqueror: I am not in the habit of sharing my location with strangers on the internet._

Young and inexperienced as he was, even Will could sense this was going very badly for him. Every line he cast out was rebuffed by the man. Every refusal to engage driving Will - cock still achingly hard since he’d never found his release - to more desperate heights. 

He knew even as he typed that he should be censoring himself more, playing a longer game. But he was sixteen and horny and longed for this man - this _Daddy_ in _Baltimore_ ; so close, so attainable - to stuff his virgin hole full. His fingers danced across the keyboard before he could stop them.

_YoungDionysus: We don’t have to be strangers. I wish you were my Daddy. I’ve never had one before but I would be so good for you.  
YoungDionysus: I’m in Baltimore  
YoungDionysus: I think you are too  
YoungDionysus: meet with me  
YoungDionysus: I’d let you fuck me the moment we met. just take me wherever we were_

He could delude himself into thinking he’d somehow caught the man’s interest with his pathetic pleas as the alert to show his companion was typing rippled teasingly along the bottom of the chat for several agonizingly long moments.

_The Conqueror: As I stated previously, I have no desire to share my location with you, nor am I interested in taking on an impulsive, impudent little boy. You have met and now exceeded my tolerance with your foul language, so you have also met the end of my hospitality. Do not call on me again until you have learned to temper your impulsive crudeness and wish to converse like a civilized adult._

The chastisement cut to Will’s stomach like a physical blow, made his cheeks flame hot with shame. His chat box greyed out immediately, the beginning fumblings of a reply still stuck somewhere at the tips of his fingers, and a new message appeared beneath the man’s scolding text:

_You are now disconnected from chat_

He’d not even made it past his free five-minute window.

“Well _that_ could have fucking gone better,” Will muttered out loud.

To make matters worse, despite everything, Will’s cock was still throbbing, leaking, waiting to be worked until he found his release. He considered opening another video, but found he didn’t quite feel as though the fantasy would live up to the reality of chatting with the man, short-lived though it was.

Will stared at the abrupt, admonishing message as he jerked himself off, imagining all the ways his Daddy might punish him for such language in the future. Would he strap Will down and take a paddle to him? Or would he prefer a more hands-on approach, taking Will over his knee to spank him relentlessly with his bare hand until Will was writhing in his lap?

Will came in minutes.

\---

“Another one, William? That’s the second one in as many weeks. You aren’t even halfway through your summer holidays.” Will hated when his father used his full name, especially when it came wrapped up in that condescending tone.

“It’s been four weeks,” he replied, rolling his eyes on the other end of the phone line. _Apparently_ Jeff had decided to call his father and the elder Graham had taken the opportunity before boarding his flight to call and admonish him. 

“Excuse me?” Beau sounded confused and it filled Will with even more rage. Of course the dick wouldn’t really know how long Will had been home from school; it wasn’t like they’d even been in the same room during the last four weeks. 

“It’s been four weeks of summer break and I have twelve weeks total. Which means I’ve had _two_ tutors in _four_ weeks, not two in two weeks. It’s not my fault they can’t handle their own course loads.” Will grinned, remembering the first tutor he’d had. He’d made that one _cry_.

“No more chances, William. If you piss this one off I’m sending you to military camp for the summer.” That was the only warning Will got before the call disconnected, the last thing he heard was the staticky sound of an announcement over the intercom calling for first class boarding. 

Will tossed his phone down on the couch beside him, already bored out of his mind. He still had seven hours left of his ban, not even able to access Hannibal’s channel at all. He couldn’t possibly make it seven more hours. 

Time trickled by honey-slow and melancholy as he flipped absently through the stations on the Television, pausing on a scene of twisted, smoking metal and a headline splashed across the top of the screen: 

_Plane Failure upon Takeoff at JFK. No Survivors._

_JFK_. That was the airport his dad had been flying out of today. He turned the volume back up on the TV, listening to the details of the flight. 

A flight to _Houston_. That’s where Beau had been going. 

He couldn’t help the bitter smile that turned his lips up as he imagined his father’s body somewhere amongst the wreckage on the screen. Gone from Will’s life far more permanently than he already was. At least, then, he would always know where Beau Graham was. Six feet under. 

Pulling out his phone, he flipped to the GPS his father had forced him to use so he could keep track of Will’s comings and goings. He knew Beau would have purchased in-flight WiFi so he could work from his cushy seat in first class. 

He growled under his breath when he saw the blip on the map that showed his father’s location. Still alive, then. Still fucking breathing. The bastard was too mean to die. 

Will threw the remote for the television, shattering the thin glass of the screen with the force of the impact. He huffed his frustration, yanking his laptop to himself and setting up a fake account on the cam site under his school email address. 

He needed to work off some steam.

\---

Hannibal settled in for the evening with a glass of his favorite Bordeaux, a 2010 Chateau Lafite, a full-bodied, inky black wine that was a bit sweeter than he usually preferred, but he felt the situation called for some excess. He’d just received confirmation that one of his patients from several years ago had been involved in a deadly shoot-out with police several states away. Hannibal did always love hearing how his influence had eventually led to one form of artistry or another.

Steven had drowned his wife in their pool before he strung her up on the back wall of their house and branded her with a hot iron, the shape of an A on her chest. Hannibal recalled Steven had long been paranoid his wife was unfaithful, secretly planning to leave him. 

When it was called in and the authorities arrived, things had gotten a bit more banal. Steven killed several members of the team sent to collect him and then was shot down himself. Hannibal did so loathe violence that lacked intimacy. 

He took a sip of the thick, plum-flavored wine and turned on his computer, logging into his cam account and signing into the chat. 

He’d been signed in less than thirty seconds when a chat window popped up. The system was set up in such a way that Hannibal could see the email address and last four digits of the card associated with any payment to help maintain his records. 

The last four digits of the card attached to this new account were the exact same as the boy from last night. He knew he’d set up a twenty-four-hour block for the account after his crude behavior and language, and he also knew it had not yet been twenty-four hours. The impudent little boy was playing a dangerous game of which he wasn’t even aware.

The new email address read: _williambgraham@kinsley.edu_.

 _William Graham_. He decided to look him up, see if he could find the man attached to the name. His pantry was getting light, anyway; perhaps it was time to replenish his stores.

A quick search online was all it took for Hannibal to be sitting in front of the _child_ that had already been obnoxiously messaging him for the last several minutes, the shrill _ping_ of the chatbox going off every few seconds with another round of apologies that Hannibal barely skimmed. 

The boy was lovely in a classical painting sort of way. Cherubic cheeks, soft, messy brown curls framing his face, and sea-glass blue eyes that seemed completely uninterested in what was happening. The photo appeared to be for his boarding school, a local and prestigious name that Hannibal immediately recognized. 

He was clearly not of legal age to be using the services of the cam site, but that was of little importance to Hannibal. 

He decided to reply.

_The Conqueror: It is against the terms of service to create multiple accounts, especially to bypass a valid temporary block to contact users._

It was less than ten seconds before Hannibal received yet another apologetic message. 

_WillyG: I’m sorry, Sir. Do you want to punish me?”_

The boy was still _playing_. He clearly didn’t realize who he was speaking to, or how many infractions he was collecting against Hannibal’s rules. He rarely took on new boys, especially ones that would require as much work as this _William Graham_ would need. But perhaps… 

_The Conqueror: Do not contact me again until you are capable of taking your place seriously, boy._

The implication was clear. Will had disappointed Hannibal, and Hannibal had hopes that the boy would respond beautifully once he’d been trained. 

Hannibal disconnected the chat again, deciding to release the block early for the boy’s other account just to see what he would do.

When no new messages came from either account, Hannibal nearly purred in pleasure. Perhaps the boy could be trained after all. 

He settled in for the night and did another solo live stream, noticing with a smirk that couldn’t be hidden from the camera that _YoungDionysus_ was online and watching.

\---

Will continued to watch The Conqueror’s videos every day - as well as any live stream he happened across - but did not reach out to him again. He felt well and truly scolded after his last attempt, and more than a little foolish. That was not to say he wasn’t tempted to do so; on many occasions, he found his gaze wandering to the _Chat Now!_ button in the corner of the page. But the words of the man who he longed to make his Daddy still rang fresh in his mind, stayed his hand each time.

He waited nearly a week before he tried again - a valiant effort, in his opinion, considering the raging hormones that spurred a vast majority of his actions. Will was highly intelligent, his age notwithstanding, but even _he_ found himself a slave to his own biology more often than not.

His stomach swooped when he saw the _Chat Now!_ icon appear on the screen, and even though he’d decided that night was the night to try again, he didn’t immediately move to engage. Instead, Will followed the old tried and true advice given to those that are tempted to contact their ex for a booty call: he jerked off.

Having recently found his release - and, he hoped, a bit more common sense than he’d been in possession of the last two times he’d tried this - Will opened the chat log. He’d deleted his new account after having been chided about its existence, so, when he came to The Conqueror to make amends, he did so from his original screen name. 

_YoungDionysus: Good evening. Do you have a moment to talk?_

Will held his breath as he awaited a response, chewing fretfully on his bottom lip. He still wasn’t quite sure _why_ this stranger had such a pull over him, why his opinion of Will meant so much or why he felt a constant and desperate urge to get closer. All he knew was that everything he’d seen of the man enchanted him, and he was hungry - _so hungry_ \- for more. He allowed the flow of oxygen to continue when he saw his correspondence was being answered.

_The Conqueror: Hello, again. It seems that I am free for a moment. Was there something you needed?_

Will fought the very immature impulse to tap out the first response that flew to his mind which was, quite simply, _You_. 

_YoungDionysus: I wanted to apologize for my behavior.  
YoungDionysus: Sincerely this time_

_The Conqueror: I would appreciate that. You may._

Will stared at his screen for several long moments, confusion - he _may_? He just _did_ \- warring with pride - _he wants me groveling for him, perfect little subservient boy_. 

And that was the point, wasn’t it? Will wanted a Daddy, and an older, more experienced man like this one wasn’t going to play around with that role. If he took on a boy - if he took Will - he would expect him to be polite and obedient. Will had broken the rules, and this man, still a stranger to him on the other side of a screen, was punishing him for it in the only way he could.

Will hated that the one trait he possessed that might help him out in this instance - namely, his soft curls and round face and puppy dog eyes - would be of no use to him here. He wet his lips, considering requesting a voice chat, though the rate was doubled per minute. It would help, at least, for this Daddy to hear his voice, to hear how contrite he sounded rather than attempt to gather such from a binary code revealed on the other side of their connection.

He longed to connect to video chat, but he imagined the increased cost wouldn’t escape his father’s attention for as long as the far more minimal fees for text chat had. Especially as Will was quite certain he could sit and stare at that man for hours.

A simple voice chat for just a few minutes couldn’t possibly hurt, right? 

_YoungDionysus: Are you free for a voice chat at the moment? I would like to do this face to face  
YoungDionysus: so to speak_

He found his bottom lip with his teeth once more, absently picking at a chapped area while he waited for a reply. The Conqueror didn’t begin typing out a response. Instead, a few minutes later, a new notification pinged on his screen.

_Incoming Call…  
Accept Decline_

Will took a breath and clicked the _accept_ button. He watched as the screen morphed to a call screen, the glowing green phone and rising time clock indicating an open line.

“Good evening,” that voice slipped like silk across each of Will’s senses, sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.

He swallowed, cleared his throat as quietly as possible. “Hi.”

“You had something you wished to say to me?”

Straight to the point. Will wasn’t sure why he was surprised.

He felt emboldened by the man’s easy allowance of the voice chat, brazen when he replied. “Sorry for being a bad boy, Daddy,” trying to affect an innocent, even more youthful air. 

The Conqueror made a sound of discontent, similar to the disapproving sound Will had often taken with his dogs when they were getting into something they weren’t supposed to. It made his tummy flip, and his cheeks and ears burn pink with embarrassment. 

“William, that is hardly the sort of tone a properly contrite boy would take,” the man pointed out, and Will almost missed the fact that he’d said his name. His _real_ name. 

“How do you know my name?” He asked dumbly, realizing as he spoke that he’d been too hasty in creating the second account, had used his actual information to make it rather than setting up new email accounts and information to go along with it. His email address had his _full name_. He was an idiot. 

“From your huff of annoyance, I take it you have come to find the answer to that question on your own,” The Conqueror sounded smug, with a still present layer of danger to his voice. 

“I’m young and horny, what can I say? I don’t always think straight, especially where you’re concerned,” Will teased, recovering quickly from this new knowledge. So what if the man knew his name? Will _wanted_ to meet him, so it wasn’t like he was afraid he’d find him. 

The man gave a hum of acknowledgment and Will could practically hear him steepling his hands on the other end of the line. 

“The god of excess seems a fitting username for such a needy brat,” the Conqueror sounded only mildly reproachful, so Will decided to press his luck again. 

“Yeah, well...Menoetius was already taken.” Will shot back quickly, a slow smile curling his lips upwards. 

“The god of pride and rash behavior. The history of your hubris stands to reason you fit that description as well,” the man chuckled, and the depth of his voice and the rumble of his laughter caused Will to sit up straighter, his cock throbbed between his legs and his spine tingled with the first stirrings of arousal.

“What’s your name?” Will decided to go for broke. 

“You may call me Doctor or Sir. We are not well acquainted enough for you to use the title of Daddy just yet,” the _Doctor_ rattled off with an ease that made Will believe he was an actual Doctor, and not just using the honorific for play.

“A doctor, huh? I think I might be feeling unwell. Can I come see you for a diagnosis?” Will practically purred. His charm had gotten him fairly far in life, after all. The implication that the man wanted to become better acquainted, that there was a possibility for them to become intimate, had Will harder than he’d ever been and feeling bold enough to touch himself as he listened to Hannibal shift on the other side and watched the minute meter tick up. 

Maybe more than a few minutes, then.

“I do not repeat myself, William. If you were my boy, you’d have wracked up enough infractions by now that you’d be red and weeping by the time I was finished with you.” The threat was explicit, nothing lost in the subtext. Will shivered with anticipatory desire, a consuming need igniting in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, Sir,” Will muttered to the screen, and he found that he meant it this time. He was the type to always push the rules, bend them when it suited him, but he found he didn’t want to disappoint this man. 

“For?” The Doctor prompted.

“For breaking your rules,” Will elaborated softly; he felt his cheeks blaze with embarrassment. “For bein’ a brat.” 

He felt his tension ease when the man on the other end of the call made a soft, pleased sound. “You’ll do well to keep this in mind in the future, I hope. Now, since you seem so keen on the two of us becoming better acquainted, why don’t you tell me more about yourself, you greedy little thing.”

It was only later, after the call had ended, that Will stared at the final minute count and estimated its total cost. In the end, he decided that it was sixty-seven dollars well spent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal didn’t generally take on new patients unless they were a specific referral, being quite busy enough with his regular load in addition to his stream and his other stress relieving activities. He’d had an inkling, however, when a new potential patient had emailed him out of the blue requesting the last appointment of the day for a first time session, that the name given - Jackson Reeves - was a false one. He allowed the individual to schedule, figuring at worst it was a sincere patient that he could pass off to a colleague if he found them dull, and at best it was that sneaky little brat, pushing his boundaries once more less than twenty-four hours after trying to worm his way back into Hannibal’s good graces

Hannibal didn’t generally take on new patients unless they were a specific referral, being quite busy enough with his regular load in addition to his stream and his other stress relieving activities. He’d had an inkling, however, when a new potential patient had emailed him out of the blue requesting the last appointment of the day for a first time session, that the name given - Jackson Reeves - was a false one. He allowed the individual to schedule, figuring at worst it was a sincere patient that he could pass off to a colleague if he found them dull, and at best it was that sneaky little brat, pushing his boundaries once more less than twenty-four hours after trying to worm his way back into Hannibal’s good graces

The sweet thing didn’t even think to use a credit card different from the one attached to his account on the website when prompted for one to hold the time slot.

Hannibal was decidedly unsurprised, then, when he opened the door to his waiting room at precisely seven to find Will Graham sitting on his settee. Because Hannibal had no reason to know the boy’s true identity, he greeted him by his false surname and ushered him inside.

The photo Hannibal had found of him did little justice to showcase the effortless beauty of the young man. His chocolate curls looked so very soft, and though it was obvious an attempt had been made to control them, they fell unruly across his forehead and down his neck. In the photo, his eyes had looked blue, but upon closer inspection Hannibal could see they could never be described with such simplicity - he mused that it might take half a dozen different shades to do them justice if he attempted to capture their likeness. 

His smile was easy, just the slightest bit strained at the edges, which any therapist could easily put down to the nerves of a patient meeting a new therapist for the first time. Hannibal knew better. He could see the tension that lined the boy’s slight frame, all lean hips and skinny limbs, stepping curiously around the office with his stomach clenched, waiting to reveal himself.

“I’ve only ever talked with the school counselor,” Will explained. He spoke with an easy drawl, slipping into the Southern accent so effortlessly that Hannibal suspected he had truly spent some time in the Gulf Coast, but his voice, his ever-amused tone, was already intimately familiar to him. “But my daddy reckoned it’d be a good idea for me to talk to someone. I’m not settlin’ in so well. Maryland ain’t like Louisiana at all. So I-”

“Are you Will Graham?”

The boy faltered - in step _and_ in conversation - wide eyes flashing to Hannibal’s in surprise before quickly dropping away sheepishly. “Nothing gets by you, I see,” he muttered, the drawl immediately forgotten. Will sighed and gave a shrug and then, surprisingly, he turned his back on Hannibal to continue his inspection of the office. “I apologize for the deceit,” he flashed a wry smile to Hannibal over his shoulder as he sauntered closer to his desk. “I know you’d make me anyways.”

“Indeed,” Hannibal agreed, following the boy’s course to where he stood examining the latest drawing Hannibal had left on his desk. “How did you find me?”

Will huffed out an amused breath. “Recognized the Basilica in one of your streams. Googled doctors in the area - did you do this from memory?”

Hannibal settled behind the boy, leaned down to glance over his shoulder, using the proximity to sample his scent. He smelled like fire in the snow; wild, unpredictable, a force daring someone to try to tame it. Hannibal would do more than tame it; he would, as his namesake suggested, _conquer_ it. Consume it entirely, perhaps, for this impetuous and ill-thought infraction.

“The Duomo, in Florence. I spent many years as a young man there.”

The boy turned then, settling back to lean his weight against the edge of the desk even as he arched his spine closer to Hannibal, eyes hooded demurely. “Am I what you expected?”

“I _expected_ \- foolishly, perhaps - that you would learn your lesson and follow my rules.” His irritation with the boy, with the whole situation, was expounded exponentially by the sly, playful smirk that twisted Will’s lips as he swayed his body gently.

“But am I to your tastes?”

_Oh, sweet boy. I do intend to find out._

“My tastes run more obedient than I believe you can ever achieve. I am uncertain what you hoped to accomplish with this immature stunt, but I assure you, it is not going to go the way you planned. As you have not yet had access to my stream for a full month, I will refund you the initial payment, though the charges for our chats will remain.”

Anger flared in those crystalline eyes, his jaw clenched tight. “You’re _firing_ me as a client?! You can’t do that!”

“I assure you, I am well within my rights to ban any user from contacting me. It would be best if you took your leave now.”

Will huffed, a vicious energy trembling through his slight body as he straightened from his pose against the desk and glared at Hannibal. “I misspoke then. You _shouldn’t_ do that, you wanna know why?”

Hannibal raised a single eyebrow at the question.

“Seems to me that you shouldn’t piss off someone that knows who you are, and so many _interesting_ things about you. ‘Specially someone as _immature_ as I apparently am. I’ll go, if you want, but I expect when I get home that I’ll still find myself with full access to your page.”

The boy huffed again, shouldering his way past Hannibal as he attempted to storm out of the office. Hannibal caught a handful of his curls - just as soft as he’d expected - before he could even get himself out of reach. In a breath he had the skinny thing spun around and pinned tightly to the edge of the desk, both hands held firmly behind his back with one of Hannibal’s. When he struggled against his hold, Hannibal tightened his grip in Will’s hair and pressed the weight of his body into Will’s back to keep him still.

“Spoiled little rich boy,” Hannibal hissed in the boy’s ear, low and menacing, and the brat must have had _some_ sense of self-preservation, because he stilled his wiggling at the sound of Hannibal’s tone. “Daddy Graham gives you everything you want, doesn’t he? Everything except his attention, that is, which is why I believe you have taken to seeking mine. And how _mature_ you’ve been in the process; disobeying my wishes, invading my privacy, and now you seek to bend me to your will with blackmail; holding my livelihood hostage.”

He tutted once, parted the veil slightly when he spoke next to truly impress upon the boy how much danger he had found himself in. “Unwise, William. After our most recent conversations, I had high hopes for your intelligence but obviously I was mistaken. Well done, you’ve managed to render me just as foolish as yourself. ”

He could feel the wild beating of the boy’s heart against his chest; the acrid scent of fear flooded his palate. He could kill him now, but there was no way to know with certainty who might be aware of his current location. And most of the meat would be rendered useless by the boy’s adrenaline, only the organs fit for consumption. He deliberated for a moment and decided in the end that it might be more entertaining to see the young thing broken first. He could always kill him later, if his entertainment value waned.

“Your little heart is rabbiting, Will. Perhaps not entirely foolish, then. You wanted so desperately to be my boy… Well, you’re about to experience first-hand how I deal with impetuous little brats such as yourself. Who knows, perhaps this will be the lesson that finally sticks.” He released his hold on Will and spun him bodily around, keeping him caged against the desk.

Hannibal allowed the dangerous glint in his eyes to remain, could tell from Will’s sharp intake of breath that he was afraid. He wrapped a firm hand around the exposed, pale column of the boy’s throat and _squeezed_. He waited for Will’s eyes to slip closed in apparent acceptance of whatever Hannibal intended for him before he released him suddenly, leaving him reeling against the desk, clutching it tightly to hold himself upright.

“Strip.”

Will stared up at him in shock, his chest panting for breath. Even if he missed the way the boy’s trousers had tightened in the crotch, Hannibal couldn’t mistake the underlying tang of arousal that spilled so suddenly off of him. To his credit, he obeyed without question, though his fingers trembled terribly as they worked free the buttons of his cobalt blue shirt.

“I’ve never had sex before,” he murmured as he discarded his shirt. Hannibal was pleased to see that the pink that tinged his cheeks also flooded down to his chest.

“An interesting piece of information, and one that will not be changing this evening,” Hannibal informed him. He pursed his lips at Will’s confusion. “When your dogs make a mess in the house do you give them a treat and a pat on the head? This is _punishment_ , Will. You’ve not yet earned my hand in any other way.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Hannibal heard the boy practically whisper in the direction of his feet. He stepped forward and hooked a finger beneath Will’s chin, forcing eye contact. 

“I am not your Daddy, William. As I have told you before, I do not enjoy repeating myself. This will be the last time I tell you; you may call me Sir or even Doctor, but you will not call me Daddy if that is not what I am,” he spoke with a tone of such finality that he saw Will’s shoulders droop in despair. Perhaps the boy had enough submissiveness in him to be worth teaching after all. 

At Will’s hesitated hovering over his trousers, Hannibal walked to a cabinet on the wall and opened it just enough for himself to be able to see the contents within while still keeping them a mystery to the boy. “Pants too, William.” he deliberated over the implements in front of him. 

“Can you stop calling me that?” the boy huffed behind him and Hannibal smirked into his cabinet. 

“It is your name, is it not?” 

“Yeah but no one calls me that. I’m just Will,” he heard a layer of dejection beneath the false bravado the boy seemed to radiate in waves and it caused him a small amount of pause. It wouldn’t do for any potential boy of his to be so self-deprecating. 

He heard the soft sound of Will’s zipper being opened. “Hold your belt between your teeth while you continue. Perhaps that will keep you quiet,” he didn’t look to see if Will was following orders, knew he would be. 

Hannibal finally pulled a simple brown leather crop from the cabinet, slapping it against his hand as he turned back to the impatiently waiting boy. He was nude down to his boxers now, and Hannibal was pleased to note Will had placed his shirt and pants in a neat pile atop the desk, his socks tucked into his shoes where he’d placed them beneath the desk. 

“I believe this punishment will be more _impactful_ if you remove the underwear too, boy,” he remained stoic and impassive, forcing Will to sustain his good behavior and exceed expectations in order to garner affection. He knew a boy like Will would rise to the occasion - he was too willful not to.

Hannibal could see Will desperately wanted to ask a multitude of questions, but the boy remained good for him, not letting the belt fall from his mouth as he reached shaking hands to tug his boxer-briefs down his slim hips and thighs, letting them pool at his feet before stepping out of them and bending at the waist to collect them, folding them to add to the pile.

When he was standing straight again, Hannibal was pleased to note that the boy was semi-hard already, his body clearly interested. It wouldn’t have mattered either way to Hannibal, but it was always better when the submissive was receptive. 

“I’m a reasonable man, _Will_ ,” Hannibal began, letting some of his monster surface again, just long enough for him to watch Will’s eyes grow large, his pupils expanding in fear and arousal. “I will give you the choice of ten strikes with the crop or twenty with your own belt.” 

He watched the warring looks of genuine, desperate desire and bratty willfulness play across Will’s delicate features. His eyes were a watery blue already, and Hannibal wondered if the boy was already dangerously close to subspace. He’d never had a boy drop so fast. It would be fascinating to take him apart and weave him back together into something even better suited for Hannibal’s table. Or, perhaps, even his bed. 

“You may remove the belt to speak,” Hannibal stepped closer, crowding Will’s space again and offering his hand for the boy to drop the belt into. 

Will’s cheeks blazed bright pink when he allowed the belt to fall into Hannibal’s outstretched hand, his eyes catching on the saliva that coated the leather and clung to the corners of his lips where they’d remained lax and opened around the firm material. Hannibal was surprised that, even in his shame, Will didn’t move to wipe the spit away.

“Ten with the crop,” his tone suggested he thought this was the obvious answer, the one that would hurt the least and be over quickest. Sweet, arrogant boy, he had so much for Hannibal to teach him.

“As you wish,” Hannibal gestured for Will to turn around. “Place your palms flat against the desk and loosen your stance,” He watched as Will complied, slowly but beautifully nonetheless. He stepped closer, pressing his body to Will’s arched back and forcing the smaller boy to take some of his weight. He kicked Will’s legs further apart until his chest was pressed to the cool wood of the desk, his back deeply curved for him. 

He palmed at Will’s ass, squeezing the flesh beneath his fingers. He gave one quick, sharp smack to his left cheek, watching as his skin rippled under the impact, and the boy stepped up so sweetly onto his tiptoes in surprised pain. 

Hannibal would normally warm up his boy far more than he allowed Will, especially since he knew this was his first time, but he had forced a level of impatience into his own actions that hovered on the line of rash behavior as he stepped back, putting distance between their bodies so that he could watch Will’s legs shift and his ass thrust back as though he could follow Hannibal’s body with his own. 

Before the boy could fully collect himself, Hannibal brought the crop down hard on the skin just below Will’s right asscheek, smirking to himself as Will spilled further across the table with a sweet, little whimper of surprise, sliding on the papers he’d scattered across its surface as he’d dug through Hannibal’s art. 

Hannibal proceeded in much the same fashion, scattering the next four swats to various places along the boy’s right upper thigh and leaving the fifth tap burning into the delicate skin of his ass. 

He stepped close again to palm at the marks he’d already left, Will hissing in pain when Hannibal’s warm hand further heated the hot welts already developing beautifully against his pale skin. 

When the sixth hit landed on fresh skin, Will keened loudly in the back of his throat, shifting desperately against the desk. Hannibal had worked with masochists before, but he’d never seen a new submissive react so gorgeously to the kiss of the crop. He landed three hits in rapid succession in the same spot along the crease of Will’s thigh, his grin expanding to show teeth when he could see the evidence of Will’s arousal from between his widespread thighs. 

At the final strike, Hannibal began to muse that perhaps one more wasn’t enough. He was curious to see if he could have Will break this perfectly for him if he introduced even more pain without relief or release. Hannibal brought the last slap down on Will’s left ass cheek, placing the crop down on the desk beside Will’s face, the sound forcing the boy’s eyes open. 

The color was nearly fully consumed by the black of his arousal, his eyes already taking on a hazy, sleepy quality. Hannibal used a finger to swipe through some of the saliva Will had drooled onto his desk, and offered the finger to Will to clean. The boy intuitively knew what Hannibal wanted and parted his plush lips to lick pitifully at Hannibal’s fingertip. 

“You can take more, can’t you sweet boy?” He allowed a modicum of fondness to slip into his voice, rubbing a proprietary hand down Will’s heaving flank before slapping gently against the fresh welts. 

Will nodded desperately, making eye contact with Hannibal as he spread his legs even wider. “Please, Sir,” and finally, _finally_ he sounded sincere, absolutely lovely with his flushed cheeks, runny nose and spit-wet lips. Hannibal could even see tears forming along the bottom lashes of his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Very well. I’d like you to try and count these for me, Will,” Hannibal collected the belt from where he’d set it on the desk, and resumed his position behind Will. 

This time, he was much slower to act, letting the anticipation build in Will until he could see the boy trembling with it, his body flooded with endorphins and his ass and thighs likely already a live-wire of pain. 

Finally, Hannibal folded the belt in half and brought it down against Will’s ass, crossing both cheeks with the first hit. He didn’t want to damage the boy too terribly their first time, so he tried to rein in his blows, even as Will stuttered out number after number for him in breathless gasps of air. 

By the sixteenth blow of the belt, Hannibal could hear sniffling, slurred words other than the number, and he leaned forward to better hear him. As he brought down the seventeenth slap across where he’d just left the last one, he finally heard Will’s words clearly. 

_Seventeen, thank you, Sir._ Fascinating. The boy was proving far worthier of his time than he had perhaps originally estimated. If he always broke this beautifully, performed this perfectly to direction and guidance, Hannibal knew he would be something to behold. 

Hannibal got the last three over quickly, wanting to see the boy’s eyes again. If Will’s barely audible _twenty_ was anything to go by, Hannibal might need to take a few minutes to bring him back up to the surface of consciousness, guide him from the haze of the space he floated in. 

“Look at me, darling boy,” Hannibal stepped into Will’s line of sight, and barely held back his surprise at how wonderfully and terribly beautiful Will looked in this moment. He was openly sobbing, tears staining his soft cheeks and gliding down his chin to pool beneath him on the desk. As Will lifted his body from the desk, a paper that was pressed to his cheek went sliding across the desk, graphite streaking further when Will tried to stop it from falling off the side. 

Will wailed something unintelligible, hiding his face in ink-stained hands. Hannibal moved closer and removed his hands from his face, holding them by the wrists firmly with one of his own hands. 

“What was that?” He hooked Will’s chin again with his free hand and forced his tear-streaked face and red eyes to look at him. 

“I’ve ruined it,” Will whispered, nodding to the drawing he’d commented on earlier. Hannibal viewed the sketch over Will’s shaking shoulder, noticing the damage done, especially to the delicate arches of the dome, Will’s finger marks clear in the graphite from some of Hannibal’s more forceful blows, other places blurred and the paper warped with the moisture and salt of Will’s tears. 

Will sniffed sorrowfully, his quaking body stiffening as Hannibal released his wrists and stepped around him to retrieve the pencil on the other side of the desk, no doubt wondering if he was to see further retribution for such a mishap. He signed and dated the page, titled it _Will’s first punishment_ , and then slipped it into the top drawer of his desk with a soft smile in the boy’s direction. "On the contrary; it's all the more beautiful now. I shall keep it, just as it is."

Hannibal placed a guiding hand on Will’s hip and moved him to the chaise lounge a few feet away, settling the boy onto his stomach. Will whimpered quietly when Hannibal left him for a moment to retrieve some soothing cream from his cabinet, as well as some antiseptic to handle a few small marks that had actually split skin. 

He soothed a hand down Will’s sides as he patched him up, the boy’s breathing evening out as the adrenaline that had flooded his system earlier slowly began to fade. Just as Will’s eyes slipped closed, Hannibal spoke. “Now that we’ve put all of that business behind us, would you like to come home to have dinner with Daddy?” 

Wide, wet eyes blinked up at him in surprise; the boy parted his pink lips, but after a moment, when no sound came out, closed them again and nodded instead.

Hannibal rewarded him with a soft smile and a gentle hand through his curls. “There’s a good boy.”

\---

Will’s lower half was in _flames_.

He did his best not to squirm in his seat, both because he didn’t want the man next to him to become aware of just how much pain he was in - though he certainly must be aware - and because every movement, even those that shifted the pressure from sitting on his raw and wounded behind and thighs, caused more pain than it relieved.

He didn’t speak, because his Daddy had not spoken to him since they’d gotten in the car. His Daddy. _His._

Will soared at the prospect, feeling both elated and smug that he’d worn the man down - or rather, that he had unwittingly shown the man something he found worth keeping - and also a solemn sense of honor that such a magnificent man would choose to take him on as a boy. It was pretty apparent the man had not done so in quite some time - that he had, as stated on his website, not had any interest in doing so until Will had shown up on his doorstep. 

He tried not to think about the darkness he’d glimpsed during their brief time together thus far, and actively shut out the phantom voice that spilled into his ear, low and menacing. _Warning._ Thinking about such things only sent his heart rate back up again, sent his blood pounding and released a flood of adrenaline to prepare himself to run. Thinking about it only sent arousal - burning hotter than the welts on his thighs and ass - twisting through his gut and threatened to bring his cock to life once more.

He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he’d climbed into a vehicle with this man to be taken to his home - to be taken _anywhere_ as far as Will was concerned. Threatening the man with blackmail had, admittedly, been a mistake.

But what _delicious_ consequences Will was reaping for the error.

Hannibal did, in the end, bring him to _a_ house, at least. He pulled his Bentley into an attached garage and then invited Will into his home. It was nearly as grandiose as his own home, but within moments Will already felt a stronger sense of belonging there than he’d ever felt at the properties his father had picked out for them.

His heart beat a violent cadence against his ribs when Hannibal walked past him in the hall, putting their coats away in the small closet. 

“You will assist me with preparing dinner,” Hannibal spoke suddenly, pulling Will back into the present. It wasn’t lost on him that the man didn’t _ask_ him to help, but _told_ him he would be. 

Will had never been a particularly obedient child, nor had he been easy to control. But something in his stomach, in his bones, compelled him to roll over for this larger predator, to play nice. He’d never wanted to be _good_ for another person, but he _needed_ to be good for his Daddy. 

“Sure,” he replied, realizing that Hannibal seemed to be waiting for a response. The man didn’t reply, simply turned on his heel and began walking deeper into the house. 

Will was helpless but to follow. 

He watched as Hannibal seemingly danced around his opulent kitchen, pulling down bowls and recovering ingredients from cabinets and his refrigerator; some sort of hand-wrapped meat he couldn’t identify on sight, dozens of herbs and spices that appeared freshly picked, and a collection of vegetables and rice joined the line up.

“What are we having?” Will leaned on his tiptoes, the countertop just tall enough to be slightly uncomfortable as he dug his hips into the marble, draping himself across the worktop. 

Hannibal moved past him again, this time his fingertips lightly brushing the curve of Will’s ass, a touch gentle enough that one might mistake it for an accident. 

Will knew better. 

“Rosemary and olive oil braised lamb, garlic roasted asparagus and a thyme infused pilaf,” Hannibal replied easily, the meal slipping from his tongue as though it had always existed inside his head. 

“Always felt a little weird about eating lamb,” the words were out before Will could stop them, and his shoulders tensed immediately, worried he’d offended the man. 

“It was a particularly obnoxious lamb, if that is any consolation,” Hannibal’s grin was predatory, his eyes again glinting with something far more dangerous, more deadly, than anything Will had ever faced. 

Will leaned further across the counter, plucked a stalk of asparagus from the neat pile and took a bite of the crisp vegetable. 

He let out a little squawk of surprise as Hannibal walked close again, this time landing a sharp slap across Will’s ass, leaving his already stinging bottom feeling even more raw. He let out a hiss of pain, and fell from his toes to stand flat on his feet, pushing back into Hannibal’s already retreating form even as the pain crested and then evened out into something slightly more manageable. 

"How old are you?" Hannibal asked into the ensuing silence, not even looking at Will as he moved away, one more slap to his upper thigh at Will’s antics before the man was gone, on the other side of the island so quickly that Will’s hazy brain missed the movement. 

"Sixteen." He replied automatically, clamping down on the desire to gasp into his palm as he realized he’d just admitted to being so far underage as to be totally illegal and probably no longer of interest to the man across from him. He’d fucked it up far earlier than he’d even imagined he would. 

Hannibal didn’t even hesitate, graceful hands pulling a knife from its block and starting on preparation."So you’re a brat _and_ a slut, then."

Will _did_ gasp then, unable to hold the sound in his throat. “Have you always enjoyed pain, Will?” the man continued, not giving Will time to recover. He slid the pile of vegetables closer to Will and gestured to the ingredients and tools he would need to start preparing them. 

Will pulled them closer on autopilot, fingers moving clumsily over the task as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he pulled his gaze up, Hannibal was finally looking at him, something dark and taunting just beneath the surface of his bourbon eyes. 

“I don’t _enjoy_ being hurt, if that’s what you’re implying,” Will puffed up, unwilling to admit that he’d liked anything that had been done to him. He wasn’t going to give the man such easy satisfaction. 

The way Hannibal’s lips curled slightly at the edges, the way his eyes glinted maliciously even as he glanced away, belied his amusement. “I’m certain that’s why your little cock was so hard between your legs.”

Will slammed the peeler in his hand down onto the cutting board, sending a small pile of his asparagus rolling off the board and onto the counter. “It’s not little,” he snarled. Hannibal just laughed, a dark but wholly honest pleasure laced in the sound.

“My apologies,” Hannibal intoned sardonically, not even glancing up as he rubbed olive oil over the meat before him. “Those asparagus won’t peel themselves, brat,” he added a moment later, spurring Will back into reluctant action.

He swiped the peeler across the stalks of asparagus, a bit roughly but efficient nonetheless, until he had finished with the pile and moved on to breaking down the rosemary needles that had been left nearby.

"Tell me about your father," Hannibal instructed, "And bring me the rosemary."

"Kinda low-hanging fruit, isn't it?" Will scoffed as he scooped up the broken down herb and dropped it into a bowl, before passing it across the island. "You're the psychiatrist. I'm a sixteen year old boy begging a middle aged man for his attention, offering my body in the process. _You_ tell _me_ about my father."

Hannibal nodded to the bottle of olive oil beside him. "Asparagus and olive oil on the baking sheet. Sprinkle with minced garlic." He gave a hum as he rubbed the rosemary into the shining meat. "Absent," he decided after a moment. "Emotionally as well as physically I would imagine. Physically abusive?"

Will snorted as he arranged the asparagus onto the baking sheet next to him. "He'd have to get within a hundred miles of me first. Shipped me up here for the _opportunities_ that boarding school would provide," he glanced up from where his knife hovered over his clove of garlic. "I've been on summer break for six weeks and haven't seen the fucking bastard once."

"What do you imagine your father would say about your proclivities?"

Will huffed another bitter laugh as he worked his knife clumsily. "I don't give a shit. I don't need or want his approval."

"But you want mine." 

It wasn't a question, but Will found his eyes drawing up to the man across from him as he answered anyways. His heart beat a little harder as he met the man's dark gaze, and found that he had to wet his lips and swallow before he could reply, "Yes."

Another thoughtful hum as Hannibal turned away from him, shuttling his tray of meat around the island to slide it into the oven. Will finished mincing the garlic, and the moment the knife had been placed safely back down on the cutting board, Hannibal's hand met Will's ass with a fierce slap. 

Will cried out in surprise as pain blazed through his raw skin; the sharp, sudden fire made his knees buckle, and Will had to grasp at the counter for support. A breath later, Hannibal's fist was in his hair, arching him back toward the man as his lips found Will's ear. 

"You'll keep a civil tongue in this house or I shall remove it for you. Understood?"

A shudder of terror spilled down Will's spine even as arousal bloomed warm in his belly once again. That low and even tone, so dark and yet somehow so neutral, combined with the heat of the man it belonged to made Will want to surrender himself completely. He nodded as much as Hannibal's grip would allow and only received a sharp tug for his trouble. 

"Yes, Daddy," Will gasped out, breathless. 

Hannibal released him so suddenly that Will might have gone spilling to the floor if not for his death grip on the counter before him. 

"Finish the asparagus," Hannibal chided softly as he retrieved the container of rice beside the cutting board. “I need that thyme chopped in the next few minutes, Will.”

Will sprinkled the garlic over the asparagus and placed it in the oven at Hannibal’s instruction. The thyme only took a minute to break down, and he slid the cutting board to where Hannibal stood at the stove when it was ready.

“Can I stay here tonight?” The words were out before he could think better of it; before he was even sure of where the question had come from. He watched as Hannibal stirred the rice and thyme into the stock bubbling away in his saucepan.

“And just what have you done to earn that?” Hannibal asked, voice flat as though he had no interest in Will’s answer. 

Will picked at his thumbnail absently, shuffling his weight between his feet with uncertainty. “What can I do? To earn it.”

Hannibal didn’t respond to him immediately, instead turned down the heat of his burner and covered the pan with a lid. He adjusted the small timer that sat on the counter by the stove and started it, placing it back delicately. Only then did he turn to regard Will.

His gaze felt like a weight upon Will, somehow both suffocating and reassuring. When he gestured for Will to approach, Will obeyed without hesitation. When he instructed Will to kneel he did that as well, his stomach clenching with desire and his heart pounding away against his ribcage in anticipation. Hannibal gave no more instruction than that, placing his hands against the edge of the counter behind him and waiting to see what Will would do.

Will forced his breathing to remain shallow and even through his nose, though he couldn’t stop his fingers from trembling as he reached forward to undo Hannibal’s fly. The pants of his suit were tailored to him like a second skin, requiring no belt to keep them in place; beneath them, inky black silk boxers that did very little to hide the fact Hannibal was already half-hard. 

Will pulled the garments down gently, his mouth going dry as he bared Hannibal and came face to face with the man’s cock. He’d never been so close to one that wasn’t his own before. Hannibal stood silent and stoic above him, not reacting in the slightest when Will wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and took the tip into his mouth gently.

Hannibal was clean, smelled only of the natural, musky scent of a man with the faintest hint of soap. Will pulled back his foreskin and gathered the fluid that beaded at the man’s slit onto his tongue, no more bitter than his own had tasted when he’d had the passing fancy to sample it. The cock thickened in the wet heat of his mouth, twitching as more blood pulsed to fill the shaft, growing heavier on Will’s tongue. He worked his hand around the base and pressed forward until Hannibal met the back of Will’s throat, pulled back and repeated a bit more enthusiastically when that earned him a soft hum from the older man. He attempted to take too much the second time, couldn’t stop himself from gagging at the intrusion despite trying his hardest not to.

He pulled away completely to cough and catch his breath. Hannibal wrapped a hand into his curls and tilted his head up before he could attempt to begin again.

“You claim that you come to me a virgin, but you’re so eager to swallow my cock I wonder if that might not be true.”

Will blinked up at him, relieved to see a teasing edge to Hannibal’s eyes as he gazed down at him, the same as when he’d called Will a slut. He didn’t _really_ think Will was lying, then.

“I want to please you, Sir,” he mumbled, already anxious to draw that cock back into his mouth, to manipulate it with tongue and hand until he brought the formidable man to release. Perhaps he _was_ a slut after all.

“Do you now,” Hannibal murmured softly. He swiped a thumb over Will’s bottom lip. “Open,” he commanded, and Will complied immediately.

It seemed as though Hannibal was done with the fumbling of his inexperienced exploration, twining both hands into his curls and thrusting relentlessly into Will’s slack mouth. His pace didn’t falter as Will coughed and choked, struggling for breath as reflexive tears stung his eyes. He reached between his own legs to palm at his cock, impossibly hard and straining against his slacks as he was thoroughly used by the man above him.

“No, Will,” Hannibal grunted the moment his hand made contact; he paused in his thrusting then, cock buried so far in Will’s throat that his pubic hair tickled Will’s nose. “The time for taking your own pleasure at your own whims is done, little slut. From now on you will find release when _I_ desire it.”

He continued his assault upon Will’s mouth then, even and unyielding for several minutes while Will desperately attempted to teach himself to find breath through his nose. Between that and attempting to shift his hips subtly to gain some friction for his aching prick, Will quite lost sense of time. He had the absurd thought that perhaps Hannibal would never finish, never stop using Will like this; just keep going and going and going…

The timer for the rice chimed and Hannibal’s hips stalled once more, a briskly commanded _swallow_ Will’s only warning for the release that spilled into his mouth and down his throat. He swallowed reflexively, most of the bitter fluid sliding past his tongue, though the taste remained even as Hannibal pulled away and Will’s mouth flooded with saliva.

He stayed kneeling on the floor, heaving for breath as Hannibal returned to his business. Will could hear him snap the heat off of the stove and open one of the cupboards. When he finally pushed himself to standing on shaky legs, Hannibal was at his side, pressing a glass of red wine into his hands, which Will took a sip of immediately.

“Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. The bathroom is down the hall and to the left. Go clean yourself up and then return so I can show you how to set the table. From now on, if you wish to join me for dinner it will be your responsibility.”

Will took another sip of the fruity red - no doubt a perfect pairing for their lamb - and then set it down and left for the bathroom. He didn’t risk touching himself while he was in there, though he was still desperately, dizzyingly aroused. He was certain Hannibal would know.

\---

Dinner was a relatively relaxed affair considering the tension that had been mounting during its preparation. Hannibal was not taking pity on the boy, simply fostering a sense of anticipation in him by denying him his expectations for how things would proceed.

“What does your father do that sees him away so frequently?” Hannibal cut into his meat, young and tender enough to fall apart with only the force of his fork. Will had changed his tune regarding lamb - rather, what he _thought_ was lamb - with his first bite, moaning around the mouthful and quick to praise Hannibal for his skill.

“Ever heard of _BG Oil_?”

“Certainly.”

BG Oil was the third largest oil company in America, largely responsible for supplying the entirety of the southeastern states. Will nodded as he took a sip of wine, the confidence that he’d worn like armor when he first stepped into Hannibal’s office resurfacing as he grew more comfortable.

“Did you know it stands for Bell-Graham?” When Hannibal indicated that he did not, Will nodded again, sure to swallow his bite of asparagus before he continued, “Bell died six years ago, and Graham hasn’t stopped working ever since.”

Hannibal regarded Will with interest as he took his own sip of wine. “You resent your father for devoting the entirety of his attention to the business. A business that you benefit from on a daily basis; one which you will someday inherit.”

The boy’s eyes darkened and narrowed as his lips curled up into the mockery of a smile. “He was always a poor excuse for a father, mean as nails, but at least he used to be _around_ now and then. These days I have a stronger emotional connection to my driver and the woman that washes my boxers than I do to the man that sired me.”

He could see Will actively reigning in his tongue, forcing himself not to curse as he spoke about his father, and felt quite pleased to see him making an effort, taking Hannibal’s rules seriously.

“You speak so dispassionately about him.” Hannibal observed, taking another bite of the last impertinent boy he’d met. The one sat before him now was far more interesting. 

Will’s lips curled up cruelly at that, his fist clenched where it sat in his lap. “The most passionately I’ve felt towards my father in the last several years was when I thought he’d finally died.” 

Hannibal could sense that Will immediately regretted his words, could see the tension in his shoulders and the fear in his eyes, worried he’d said too much. What a curious little creature this Will Graham was. Circling his darkness while still clutching a flashlight, still so very concerned about _appearances_. 

He let the silence stretch uncomfortably for several more seconds, relishing in watching the boy fidget and grow more and more worried. “Children outlive their parents; it’s the natural order of things. It stands to reason that there is a place in us all where we simply wait for them to die. Where we yearn for it, even. We are, after all, in many ways, imperfect copies of them.” 

“I’m nothing like my father.” Will argued immediately, some of his previous vigor returning to him in a burst. 

“No,” Hannibal agreed in a low murmur. “You are yet a shapeless thing, aren’t you? Yearning for guidance so desperately that you would seek it wholeheartedly from the first stranger you stumble upon online.”

Will bristled at the observation, not quite able to stop his features from betraying his discomfort as he shifted in his seat, only successful in reigniting the throbbing ache in his bottom. “I’m not looking for someone to shape me, Hannibal.” It was the first time the boy had used his name, and Hannibal found he liked the rounded vowels, the syrup-sweet sound of it rolling off Will’s tongue - even in disapproval - just as much as he liked hearing _Daddy_ from that clever mouth. 

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, Hannibal continued instead. “You have a long way to go to your Becoming, dear Will. How else do you expect to arrive there if not by the guidance of a firm hand?” 

“What am I _becoming_? Some perfect little carbon copy of you? Is that what you’d want? What was all that about imperfect copies? Distorted reflections aren’t what I’m striving for. I think you’d grow bored. I think _your_ boredom would be even more dangerous than my own. The sort of boredom that compels children to burn ants under a magnifying glass.” 

Hannibal was pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. He knew the boy had some fight in him, knew he had a lingering darkness clinging to the corners of his eyes, to the tip of his tongue, but he hadn’t expected _this_. “Is that how you see me Will? A bored child with a magnifying glass?”

“Don’t take offence,” the boy practically purred, snatching up his wine glass once more with the hint of a smile. “You and I are just alike in that respect.”

“Casual cruelty with the lack of stimulation. Is that what you are, William? Casually cruel?”

“I’m indifferent. Which, to those lesser than me, must appear a lot like cruelty.” He paused then, and Hannibal actually felt anticipation, waiting for what might come next. “I suppose, to that point, God must be cruel too.” 

Will picked his knife and fork back up, cutting precisely into his lamb, separating a perfectly proportioned bite from it and chewing contemplatively, leaving Hannibal waiting. “You know, there was a church collapse a few weeks ago? Sixty little old ladies, lifelong believers, dead in the rubble. What’s that if not callous indifference? I’d rather be hated by God than be forgotten. An oversight.” 

With the soft glow of the fireplace illuminating him from behind in the dim room, Will _shone_ , and Hannibal allowed himself a moment to appreciate the absolutely foreign sensation of having underestimated someone so completely. “God punishes the same way he forgives,” he suggested softly.

“By the welts on my ass, I’d argue the same of you,” the boy shot back with a smirk, one eyebrow twitching higher.

“You don’t know me well enough to make that assumption,” Hannibal informed him. “Finish your dinner, you absolute little horror.”

Will proved, once more, that he _was_ in fact capable of following instructions, the rest of dinner proceeding in relative silence after their enlightening conversation. 

Once the dishes were cleared away and the kitchen cleaned, Hannibal finally turned his full attention back on Will, noting with some level of smugness that the boy faintly trembled in a mixture of fear and arousal that still hadn’t fully abated, the easy confidence he had affected during dinner fleeing him entirely. He tilted his head, a clear command to follow, and then led the boy upstairs to the guest room.

“You will shower here,” Hannibal informed him, indicating the ensuite that resided off of the room. “You will find a bathrobe in the bedroom closet. Come to the master bedroom when you are finished; it’s across the hall and one door to the left.” The boy nodded and Hannibal left him with one final warning not to dawdle.

A warning taken to heart, apparently, for Hannibal found the robe-clad youth standing timidly in the middle of his bedroom when he finished with his own shower. He chewed on his plump, lower lip with uncertainty, his cheeks soaked red from the heat of the shower. Hannibal found himself curious as to how far down that flush extended.

“Disrobe,” he murmured as he stepped closer; he was pleased when Will obeyed without hesitation, letting the plush, navy robe - a color so striking on the boy that it was almost a shame to see it stripped away - fall to the floor at his feet.

Hannibal spared a moment to take him in once more, all gangly limbs, slight shoulders and slim hips. His face held a classic beauty, his round cheeks and unruly curls - now damp and clinging almost obscenely to his face and neck - reminiscent of a Boticelli. Will’s creamy flesh flushed further under his scrutiny, and the boy began to shift his weight from foot to foot anxiously as Hannibal slowly drew nearer.

The boy’s eyes were downturned in reverent obedience, fluttered shut when Hannibal hooked a finger beneath his chin to tilt his face up. 

“So sedate, all of a sudden,” Hannibal observed softly. “Whatever did happen to the brash little thing that invaded my office and made his demands? My bold dinner companion?”

Will blinked up at him then, eyes wide, pupils dilated. The blush that colored his cheekbones sat warm under Hannibal’s thumb; he wanted to taste it, see if it would sit just as warm and effervescent in his belly. His lips parted on a breath, full and pink, but he gave no response.

“Was one punishment so effective? Are you so easily broken, Will?”

The boy’s head jerked back slightly at the accusation, darkness clouding his crystalline eyes, his brows pulling together in annoyance. “Being obedient isn’t the same as being _broken_ ,” he insisted tightly. His spine pulled straight then, shoulders squared and chin raised up out of Hannibal’s grasp. “I doubt you could break me at all.”

Hannibal hummed, amusement flitting through him. “A challenge readily accepted. One day.” 

“One day.” Will repeated.

Hannibal nodded. “But not tonight. Undress me, boy.”

His eyes tracked the bob of Will’s Adam’s apple as he swallowed. His hands, unlike the first time Will had gone to remove Hannibal’s clothing, did not shake. They moved with a careful steadiness, deliberate and slow as he undid the sash that held Hannibal’s own robe together and allowed it to fall open. Thin, delicate fingers brushed across his chest, trailed into the hair that covered it, as if testing the coarseness. When they finally slid up to push the robe from Hannibal’s shoulders, the boy took a bold step forward, closing the distance between them almost entirely until the heat of their bodies mingled between them, his slender, hairless chest pressed flush to Hannibal’s own broader front.

A glint of mischief and a soft sound from his throat, and Will stepped back. Hannibal was pleased to note that Will was already performing beautifully, collecting his own robe as well as Hannibal’s and folding them neatly before setting them to the side and returning to Hannibal, hovering just outside of the realm of his reach. 

Will looked down to his feet and turned a coy smile up to him, eyes sparkling as he purred, “What next?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please _what_ exactly, William? Please forgive you? Please let you come? Please fuck you? ...Please _don’t_?” Hannibal growled against Will’s jaw, biting down hard, leaving indentations of his teeth, Will was sure. He hissed in pain, trying seriously this time to get away from the man pressing in all around him.

Will was permitted to look his fill of Hannibal for several long moments before the man stalked past him, on feet as soft and silent as a predator, coming to a stop in front of a large dresser. Will couldn’t see what was hidden within its confines, but a shiver of anticipation wracked his entire body as he stood in the quiet, still air of the room, exposed, and at a far more capable predator’s mercy. 

“On the bed, Will,” Hannibal didn’t return his gaze to him, still with his hands in the drawers, and Will felt a bolt of arousal and desperation to be _seen_ coil deep in his belly and propel him forward without pause. He climbed onto sheets softer than even his at home, the dark silk cool beneath his fingertips, his own lightly tanned skin still starkly pale against them. 

He trembled as he splayed his hands out beneath him on the sheets, spread his knees and presented his ass, anticipatory and hopeful. His cock hung heavy between his thighs, still painfully hard even after all this time. He’d felt arousal before, but never to this extreme. Hannibal hadn’t even touched him properly yet and already Will knew he’d be brought to begging to get his attention, his touch; be it gentle or firm. 

“Hannibal, please, I’ll do anything, just let me come,” Will groaned, flipping around onto his back and sliding up the bed to rest his head on the pillows at the top. His hand drifted to his cock, palm teasing against himself and eyes slipping closed at the light pressure. He was so close and they hadn’t even begun, his orgasm held at bay by tenuous willpower and a burning embarrassment that caused pink to flush his cheeks. He refused to be a stereotypical teenager with this man, wanted to prove he could be _good_. 

He was shocked back to the moment, eyes snapping open at the sound of flesh against flesh, and then the burning sting settled in, Hannibal’s palm firm and unignorable where it still sat, harsh and unyielding against his inner thigh, a bright red mark already forming beneath it. 

“You’ve made yourself awfully comfortable in another man’s bed, little whore,” Hannibal wasn’t angry, Will could tell, but he _was_ displeased. He towered over Will like a vengeful god, fully and gloriously nude, his strong thighs and broad chest all covered in hair already silvering a little with age.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he murmured, quiet and demure as he fluttered his lashes up at the man. His eyes caught the sight of a stark black silk tie hanging from Hannibal’s hand, and he bit his lip in anticipation of what would come next.

“You will be, I’m sure,” his voice didn’t change, but Will felt something akin to terror spill down his spine and pull his body into a tight curl. Hannibal forced him to spread back out, climbing onto the bed to hover over Will. 

They shared nothing but breath for several seconds, Hannibal’s eyes were fathomless caverns, something Will could fall into and never claw his way out of again. 

Hannibal fit his broad palm over Will’s arousal, fondling him harshly enough to bring a grimace to Will’s face. “Please,” he whined, writhing beneath the man desperately. 

“Please _what_ exactly, William? Please forgive you? Please let you come? Please fuck you? ...Please _don’t_?” Hannibal growled against Will’s jaw, biting down hard, leaving indentations of his teeth, Will was sure. He hissed in pain, trying seriously this time to get away from the man pressing in all around him. 

Hannibal grabbed Will’s wrists in a bruising grip and wrapped the tie around them so they were bound together, the delicate bones in his wrists grinding together under the crushing pressure. The silk felt good against his skin, dangerously and deceptively soft. He was well and truly trapped, Hannibal not relenting even an inch of space between their bodies, keeping Will pressed tightly to the bed with his bodyweight. He returned his hand to between Will’s thighs, applying an even firmer pressure against his arousal. 

Will turned his head into Hannibal’s right arm where it framed his face, boxing him in, the muscles taut beneath the skin as he held himself up above Will. He wasn’t sure what animalistic compulsion drove him to do so, but he sank his teeth into Hannibal’s forearm, a sound of displeasure spilling from his Daddy’s lips followed by a primal snarl. 

“Filthy creature,” Hannibal hissed, removing his hand from Will’s cock so he could slap him across the face, hard enough to grind his teeth together, his cheek stinging in the wake of the impact. 

He did it again for good measure and Will tasted copper, bright and startling against his tongue. “Hannibal -” he tried, but the man put a hand over his mouth, covering his mouth and nose completely enough to cut off air. 

“You will earn your pleasure, your pain and every breath you are permitted to take while in my home, boy. Nod if you understand.” Will met eyes that were as dark as a storm, whiskey swirling at the bottom of the bottle. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t want to earn anymore of the man’s anger, nodding his head obediently. 

Hannibal’s hand was in his hair, then, fingers curled tightly enough that he felt some snap at the roots as Hannibal hauled him bodily off the bed and onto the floor. Will cried out in surprise and pain as the carpet rubbed violent, red lines into the flesh of his knees, his skin smarting with the burn, unable to catch himself on his awkwardly tied hands.

“You will learn obedience, or you will be treated like the slut you so clearly think yourself to be,” Hannibal’s voice was a warning rumble of sound, barely human. Will whimpered beneath his ire, fidgeting uncomfortably on the floor as the man tightened his hold even further in his hair. 

Hannibal was sitting on the edge of the bed now, a perfect height for him to pull Will to him by his hair, moving his head until Hannibal’s half-hard cock was rubbing against his cheeks. 

Will tried to open his mouth, assuming the man wanted another blowjob, his lips chapped and mouth dry but he swiped his tongue across them in an attempt to be more accommodating. 

Hannibal tutted above him as Will chased his cock, trying and failing to wrap his lips around it when the man just kept rutting against his mouth, his nose, his cheeks, smearing precome that was gathering at his tip all over Will’s face. 

“Daddy -” he whined, trying to meet Hannibal’s eyes from his place between his knees, frustrated that he couldn’t use his hands to help wrangle his prize. 

Hannibal didn’t reply, only wrenched his face further back so his nose was brushing against his balls, and then further still, Will’s tongue still out and recoiling as he met Hannibal’s rim, the taste purely masculine, clean skin with a heat and musk just beneath. 

When he tried to pull away, he was met with solid resistance, unable to move his head from where Hannibal held it. He let out a confused sound of distress, not understanding what Hannibal wanted from him. 

“You’re such a clever boy, by your own claims; surely you can figure out what is expected from you?” Hannibal taunted him, and Will was forced to open his mouth again so he could breathe, his nose pressed firmly to Hannibal’s perineum. Hannibal took the opportunity to rub Will’s lips across his exposed hole, and Will realized what he was trying to do. 

He’d heard of rimming, had even seen it in porn, but he didn’t think it was a thing people _really did_ outside of adult videos. It seemed wholly unsanitary, an unexpected act for a doctor to participate in. Will whined again, but stuck out his tongue, letting Hannibal move his head in slow grinding circles. He wanted to be _good_ for his Daddy, wanted so badly to obey and be rewarded for his obedience. 

“You said you would do anything to be allowed to come. Do this, boy, and then perhaps we can discuss the option.” It wasn’t a promise, wasn’t an allowance at all - Will could do this and still not be allowed to come. But he was desperate for Hannibal’s approval, so he pointed his tongue and dragged it back and forth across the puckered skin, the tip slipping past the ring of muscle on a particularly rough downward thrust from Hannibal.

Will wouldn’t go so far as to say he was _disgusted_ \- it certainly wasn’t an act he was expecting to perform, but he trusted that Hannibal was as clean as one could make that area. It _was_ uncomfortable though; he burned with embarrassment at exploring the foreign territory - though any territory with another person was foreign - as pain lit up multiple areas of his body. His ass and thighs still throbbed warm from the beating they’d taken earlier, his scraped knees ached as they bore his weight, the fibers of the carpet sticking and pulling against his raw skin. His scalp stung where Hannibal’s hand was still twisted harshly in his hair, his lungs quivering from the shallow, ineffective breaths he could barely manage to take.

It was an experience so overwhelmingly negative, that, for a moment, Will almost wished he was elsewhere, even though for the last several weeks he had fervently _yearned_ for the attention of the compelling man from the cam site. He felt so on edge, so hyper-aware of everything that was _wrong_ , that he wouldn’t have been surprised at all if his erection began to flag, if that warm, shivering arousal that had simmered at his core since he first saw and heard the man had fled entirely.

But then his tongue slipped inside, just a little bit, and the sound that rumbled from Hannibal’s chest wasn’t a snarl or growl as before, low and menacing, but an honest-to-god _moan_ \- soft, bitten off too quickly, but a genuine sound of approval, of pleasure. Will’s head swam as blood rushed to his cock, achingly hard and heavy between his legs. A thrill rippled down his spine at Hannibal’s reaction, and Will found himself pressing closer, raising his bound hands to one of Hannibal’s haired thighs to brace himself and urge a wider spread.

He spread his tongue broad and flat and lathed it over the puckered hole a few times before pointing it once more and attempting to breech him again. The ring of muscle went lax for him, and as soon as the tip of his tongue began to slip inside, Will surged forward and forced even more of himself in. That time, when Hannibal allowed a quiet groan to escape him, Will echoed it.

“That’s it,” Hannibal encouraged, his grip on Will’s locks loosening slightly as he rocked his hips down to meet Will’s mouth. “Just like that. Good boy.”

The praise sent another shudder through Will, made his cock throb and ache for friction. He could feel that he was leaking copiously, his precome sliding down his shaft and smearing across his thigh as it bobbed with his movements. He continued his assault on Hannibal’s hole, undulating his tongue as much as he could, letting his hot breaths spill out as he panted with the exertion of his efforts. 

He could feel the man’s every muscle stiffen beneath him when Will snaked his hand up in an attempt to wrap around his thick cock and stroke, and then Hannibal’s grip in his hair turned harsh and demanding once more, ripping Will away from him and directing his release across his face. Will barely had enough forethought to squeeze his eyes shut. Though he didn’t particularly care for the taste, he allowed his mouth to hang open as he heaved for his first full breath in minutes.

He felt filthy, but the look in Hannibal’s eyes made him think that perhaps filthy was exactly what the man had been going for. 

“You look absolutely debauched, Will. I really don’t think a thing as wanton and needy as you should be allowed to come too often, lest you become even more spoiled. I’d be a terrible Daddy if I encouraged your worst habits, would I not?” Hannibal cupped Will’s jaw in his hand, swirling idly through some of the semen that painted his cheek. He imagined the sharp contrast between his still red-stained cheeks and the milky white of Hannibal’s release, and he shuddered. 

His cock throbbed between his legs, his entire body felt pulled taut, vibrating with restless energy he was desperate to expend. But, even though it pained him further to agree, he knew it was what the man wanted. “Yes, Daddy. Thank you for not letting me become spoiled,” Will nodded, looking up at Hannibal with entreating eyes. 

“I believe there is a good boy within you to be found yet, dear Will,” Hannibal encouraged Will to stand by applying pressure to his jaw, lifting him until he was standing in front of the man, tucked between Hannibal’s knees. He felt so small beneath the man’s gaze, but he also felt _protected_ , and held in regard. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he said again, whisper soft as he kissed the words into the warm palm against his cheek. 

Hannibal released his wrists from the tie with a motion so swift Will wasn’t able to keep up. “Let us go to bed. I believe you’ve earned your place beneath my sheets tonight,” Hannibal gestured to the expanse of sheets behind him and Will crawled in on tentative hands and knees, hissing softly when his scraped knees hit the soft silk. 

Hannibal took notice and, with a short nod, disappeared into the ensuite. Minutes later he returned with a jar of some sort of cream, some gauze wipes and a wet cloth. 

He took in the sight of his seed splattered across Will’s face, Will darting his tongue out playfully to lick at some of the cooling semen on his upper lip, smiling internally when Hannibal’s eyes zeroed in on the action. Finally, Hannibal moved, using the cloth to wipe down Will’s entire body, from face to cock, causing his flagging erection to stir cruelly back to life. 

The man didn’t dawdle on Will’s genitals, moving swiftly past them and applying some of the cream to Will’s knees after he’d cleaned them with alcohol and the gauze. Will didn’t speak during the entire ritual, and neither did Hannibal, simply sharing space in the quiet stillness of the post-orgasmic calm. Will’s belly hurt with how badly he wanted to come, but he forced himself to settle back into the sheets, tried to soothe his racing heart. 

“You performed beautifully today, Will. I’m very proud,” Hannibal’s voice rumbled, almost jarring in the silence that had settled around them like a warm blanket. Will sighed happily as Hannibal got into bed with him, allowing Will to curve his smaller body against his, nestling his head against the man’s chest. 

“Thank you, Daddy,” he repeated, thinking, as his eyes slipped closed and he drifted into the most restful sleep he’d ever had, that he could perhaps get used to this.

\---

_Will’s fingers clutched at the sheets beneath him, made warm by his body heat as he writhed against them, Hannibal’s mouth seemingly everywhere. He felt consumed, his entire body alive with pleasure, even though his core was achingly empty. He felt hollowed out, desperate to be filled._

_He looked down his body at Hannibal’s head between his thighs, the man was alternating between devouring Will’s cock, and eating him out. If this was how it had felt for Hannibal earlier, Will certainly could understand the appeal. His hole was wet and overly sensitive, his Daddy having spent what felt like hours opening him up, coaxing muscles unused to any sort of action to go lax beneath his touch._

_Hannibal sucked the tip of Will’s cock before dragging his tongue all along his shaft, suckeling on his balls as he made his way to lick around where two of his fingers were currently buried inside of him, fingertips pressing insistently on Will’s swollen prostate._

_“Daddy, please,” Will whimpered, arching his back and trying to entice the man deeper._

_“Please what, darling boy?” Hannibal rumbled into the creamy skin of Will’s inner thigh, teeth nipping gently before his tongue licked over the light mark._

_“Fuck me. Want your cock in me, please,” Will groaned as Hannibal pulled his fingers out, his entire body shifting away. He cried out, reaching for Hannibal just as the man reappeared between his thighs, spreading them even wider as he settled on his knees, his cock bumping at Will’s opening._

_“Let me in, Will. Let me have you,” Hannibal demanded, leaning down to lick at the tears that ran salty and warm down Will’s cheeks as Hannibal pressed forward, not stopping until his cock was fully settled inside. Will’s body clenched around the intrusion before he was able to force his muscles to relax. He felt so full, like Hannibal was touching him deeper than anyone else ever would, ever could._

_“Yes, Daddy. Move,” Will begged, moving his hips so he could try to grind down on Hannibal’s thick cock, gasping as he was spread wider, Hannibal’s cockhead brushing against his prostate with each inward thrust._

_It was over too soon, his entire body primed for release and his orgasm rising up to overwhelm him after only a few minutes. He spilled across his belly, but Hannibal didn’t stop, pounding into his hole for what felt like hours, before finally stilling, a warmth filling Will as he felt Hannibal come inside of him, some of his semen managing to leak out when he finally pulled out of Will, slicking his inner thighs with white._

Will woke with a gasping cry, realizing immediately what had happened as his brain flickered back online from the haze of his dream. He didn’t need to look between his legs to know that he had come, he could feel it cooling against his skin, sticky where he was pressed against the older man, running down their thighs to stain the sheets. 

He hadn’t been permitted to come, but surely Hannibal would forgive a nighttime accident? Will couldn’t control his body while he slept, after all.

\---

Hannibal stirred to wakefulness at the first sounds of Will’s sleepy moans, the music spilling so sweetly from his throat that, for a moment, he almost didn’t mind the way the boy was rutting shamelessly against his thigh, seeking release forbidden to him even in sleep.

The boy sighed, a soft breath that sounded faintly like _daddy_. Hannibal watched his face, brows furrowed slightly, even as a small smile quirked the edges of his lips. Will gasped and writhed against the length of Hannibal’s body, his bottom lip pushing out into a pout that had Hannibal compelled to bend down and taste it. He remained still, vigilant, watching the boy chase his pleasure as he dreamt.

He filed away the rapturous moan that broke free as the young thing writhed one more time and then came, gasping awake with a start. It was a beautiful sound but one, he decided, he wouldn’t be hearing again for quite some time. He felt the boy stiffen as he realized what had happened, as he realized that Hannibal was awake and had witnessed the whole episode. Will peered up at him with wide eyes from where he was still tucked against Hannibal’s chest.

“Did you have a nice dream?”

The flush on the boy’s cheeks deepened as he nodded bashfully. “I dreamt about you,” he admitted, his sweet voice rough with sleep.

“You’ve made a mess,” Hannibal prompted, pleased when the boy ducked his head, nodded once more and then disappeared beneath the sheets.

\---

As Will slipped beneath the sheets - because good boys cleaned up the messes they made - the haziness of sleep and release receded a bit, made him aware enough to notice Hannibal’s clipped, stiff tone. Perhaps he would be punished for this after all.

His stomach clenched at the idea in both dreaded anticipation and renewed excitement. He lapped up the seed that he’d spilled over Hannibal’s thigh, made sure to make a pass over the sheets where they were damp as well, and then reemerged to face his Daddy’s disapproval.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” Hannibal prompted, gazing down at him sternly.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Will choked out in a whisper, alarmed at the emotion that clogged his throat. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I had high hopes for you, after the way our first evening went,” he hooked a finger beneath Will’s chin when he attempted to duck his head again, to avert his eyes from the disappointment that seeped from Hannibal’s gaze and twisted sick and heavy in his chest. “My expectations are even higher. What of my lessons will you retain, how am I to teach you if every time you close your eyes you lose all self-control and defy my orders?”

Hannibal pulled away then, moving from the bed, and Will couldn’t stop the distressed whine that left him as the distance between them grew. He was hushed with a singular look from his Daddy, frozen in place by an edict as clear as if Hannibal had spoken it, as the man walked over to the closet in the corner.

“It’s become clear to me that extra efforts have become a necessity,” Hannibal’s voice drifted to him from the closet as Will listened to him rummage for what he sought. 

He wondered if Hannibal was retrieving another crop, or perhaps a paddle, and winced at the thought. He wasn’t sure if he could take another round of punishment of that sort again so soon. Already he could feel the deep bruises welting along his ass and thighs, the tingling numbness and low but insistent burn fading away to a deep ache with even the barest amount of pressure.

“I suppose this is better discovered sooner, rather than later, so I may be quick to correct undesirable behavior. Perhaps I was foolish to believe such a wanton little slut like yourself could control themselves with only a spoken command.”

Will buried his burning face into the pillow as he awaited Hannibal’s return. He’d never - not _once_ \- felt ashamed for having a wet dream. But his Daddy’s disappointment ebbed through him, dark and viscous like a relentless tide of poison, made emotions both unexpected and unfamiliar wash through him; shame, embarrassment, contrition. His chest felt too tight, like it might burst open from feeling so much _bad_ after the warm weightlessness of contentment that had lulled him to sleep.

He stiffened when the bed dipped beneath Hannibal’s weight, again when the man quietly _tsked_ at him. “None of that, now,” he chided softly. Will hadn’t even noticed the hot tears streaking down his cheeks until Hannibal bent low to lick them away. “On your back, William.”

Will twisted around, teeth clenched when another ache bloomed through his lower region as he settled on his back. He blinked up at Hannibal, eyes wet and stinging with tears that threatened to fall all the faster as he took in the man’s softened expression.

“I know you didn’t mean to; I forgive you,” Hannibal assured him, reached up to brush away the curls sticking to Will’s forehead. The action sprung forth more of the salted sorrow, and Hannibal brushed that away as well. “But we mustn’t let it happen again, yes?” Hannibal smiled when Will nodded in agreement.

He pulled back the sheets, baring Will to air that felt chilly with the heat of the blankets cocooning him stripped away. Will’s breath hitched as Hannibal’s hand encircled his softened cock gently, and then startled when the warmth was replaced with the feeling of hard, cold metal. 

Will jerked his head up to peer down his body as Hannibal fitted the device over him with practiced hands. “You’re _caging_ me??” He questioned, outrage and befuddlement warring with each other for control. “For how long??”

“Until such a time as I can be certain you can retain more control over yourself,” Hannibal informed him tightly. Will’s heart raced at the _snick_ of the lock clicking into place. He swallowed the lump of panic in his throat as Hannibal’s hand found his cheek once more. “This is a lesson, Will. Not a punishment.”

A soft sigh, followed by an equally soft acquiescence. “Yes, Daddy.”

\---

The cage was beautiful, at least, though it was also the bane of Will’s existence for the next two weeks. He’d thought he would become used to it after the first day or two, but the weight of the thing dragged his soft prick down as he stood or walked, and the metal dug into his thighs when he tried to cross his legs. It had taken an embarrassingly long time to ascertain the ins and outs of cleaning the contraption - and his cock within it - the first time he’d showered with it on, and then he found out what pure agony felt like when a loose thread on his towel snagged on the cage and Will’s bound cock was jerked unexpectedly as he’d cast the towel aside.

Worse than even the day-to-day practicalities of the cage were the limitations it imposed. An aching need pulsed through his gut _constantly_ , his balls growing sore as he was systematically teased by his Daddy day in and day out - Will saw him almost every day now, and missed his stabilizing presence every minute they were apart - and denied release again and again.

It was maddening, but Will thought he’d finally learned how to make himself not care about his own pleasure, replacing the physical release of an orgasm with the warm pride that swelled within him when Hannibal praised him, the utter _high_ that had Will floating when he went to his knees for his Daddy to work him to completion. Some days Will earned his place in Hannibal’s house - and, more often than not, his bed - by using the skills Hannibal taught him to get him off. Some days, Hannibal just wanted to bind Will and tease him - and, on one occasion where a dark cloud had seemingly overcome the normally stoic man - beat him.

By the end of their first week, Will never wanted to leave.

It wasn’t uncommon for Will to wake after Hannibal, as a matter of fact, it was the expectation; Will was a heavier sleeper than his Daddy and also didn’t feel the compulsion to rise with the sun like Hannibal seemed to. 

This morning, however, Will woke to blood-red light staining the walls and creeping across the carpet like fingers, his bare skin bathed in the glow. He looked down his body to see what had pulled him from a deep sleep, only to find Hannibal framed between his spread thighs, his head bobbing rhythmically as he ate Will out. 

“Daddy, _fuck_ ,” he keened, his voice thick with sleep, brain struggling to keep up with all of the stimulation, unsure if this wasn’t _also_ a dream. His head hit the pillow with a soft _thwack_ and he let his eyes flutter closed again, arching his spine in an effort to push himself harder against Hannibal’s mouth.

Hannibal’s palm came down on the outside of his leg swiftly in retribution, firm against the exposed skin. “Language, boy,” he growled into the crease of Will’s leg, nipping at his thigh before returning to his task, licking with broad swipes over Will’s rim. 

Everything felt overly-sensitive, like electric currents sparking all along his veins. He hadn’t orgasmed in two weeks, and as a sixteen-year old, red-blooded boy, it was a very intense and specific form of torture. 

The man gathered saliva in his mouth and let it drip down Will’s crack, following it with his tongue in a completely filthy and unexpected display, forcing a broken sound of need from Will that pulled a bright flush of shame to his cheeks. Sometimes he hated how _easy_ he was for it with Hannibal. How badly he always wanted his Daddy and whatever he offered him. In those moments, he reminded himself that such was the purpose of this practice; to give himself over to another completely - a man that knew the world and knew what Will needed from it.

“Hannibal -” he was cut off by a sound of displeasure and a nip to his sore rim. Hannibal had taken to stretching him with various plugs, making him wear them for hours at a time, so his rim was aching and tender as Hannibal slipped his tongue past the lax muscles, adding a finger to slide in alongside his slick tongue.

He continued just like that for several long, torturous moments, avoiding Will’s prostate purposefully, rubbing along his walls and licking around where his finger disappeared into Will’s opening. 

Finally, after what felt like years, Hannibal pulled away to speak.

“If you can manage to come once with it on, I will remove your chastity, and consider this lesson ended,” Hanniba’s voice rumbled against Will’s knee, the man slowly rising to hover above Will, slipping two fingers into his soaked hole while he bit his claim into Will’s collar bones. “The ultimate display of control; to stop yourself when necessary and force yourself when commanded.”

“Daddy, _please_. I can be good, I promise,” Will whimpered, trying to bite down on the pitiful whine that threatened to spill out. He’d grown to know Hannibal’s preferences as well as the things he detested over the last several weeks, and he knew Hannibal hated when Will whined without purpose, or after being told _no_. 

Hannibal leaned over the side of the bed and retrieved the key to Will’s cage from the top of the nightstand. He paused for just a moment, looking down at him with a predatory gleam in his eyes that made Will’s belly churn with a mixture of fear and desire. He placed the key beneath his pillow, and kept up his assault on Will’s body, teeth and tongue painting all along his neck and chest while his fingers never ceased moving inside of him.

Finally, blissfully, Hannibal used his considerable skill to rub with precision directly over Will’s prostate, pushing down with enough pressure to nearly be uncomfortable. Will’s cock gave a pitiful twitch between his thighs, still unable to get hard within the confines of the cage. 

“ _Yeah_ , Daddy, please…” he groaned, writhing on Hannibal’s thick fingers, desperate and on edge. He hadn’t been able to come with the cage on yet, but Hannibal also hadn’t played with him quite like this before now. He could feel the efforts of Hannibal’s machinations as his relentless assault of Will’s prostate forced his cock to leak from the stimulation. 

Will let every filthy thought that had ever crossed his mind surface at that moment, tapped into the well of his empathy and let himself reimagine what it was like to bring Hannibal to orgasm. Heat licked through him, his stomach twisting and balls aching and flaccid cock straining to fill against the confines that held it. All the while, sparks of pleasure and pain shot through him as Hannibal worked him from the inside out.

“I can’t,” Will sobbed, “I want to, I want to, Daddy, _please_ -” he gasped and groaned and thrashed against his own physical limitations. He cried out in frustration and humiliation when Hannibal pulled his fingers out of him. “I’m trying!” Will insisted with a sob. “I’m trying, _please_ -”

Hannibal didn’t pull away for long; must have planned for this eventuality. The vibrator he penetrated Will with was slim but curved, arcing to buzz insistently against his prostate. It was just enough, almost _too much_ , and Will thrashed and hollered as his soft cock finally, _finally_ , pulsed his release through the mesh of his cage. It was _so much_ , far more than he’d ever come before. He was still trembling when Hannibal pulled the toy out of him, still heaving for breath as he retrieved the key and released Will’s prick from the cage.

He didn’t expect the heat of Hannibal’s mouth encompassing him, cleansing him of his release, nor did he anticipate the expectant hand that wrapped around his soft, sensitive cock to pull at it languidly.

“Again, I think,” Hannibal murmured contemplatively, as though he’d barely cast aside a thought for Will or his pleasure.

“Hannibal -” Will began, cut off as the older man’s grip tightened insistently around his cock. “Daddy, please, I don’t think I can -”

“You’re quite young, William,” Hannibal bit out sharply, his dark eyes pinning Will in place with one pointed glare. “I highly doubt you’ve exhausted your youthful stamina just yet.”

Will’s teeth sank into his bottom lip hard enough to feel the chapped skin crack further, faint copper-red taste of blood against his tongue. Hannibal leaned forward and pinched his bottom lip cruelly between his thumb and pointer finger, yanking it free of Will’s teeth. 

“You are mine, darling boy. Your pain, your pleasure, the very air in your lungs. Do not think to harm yourself without my permission,” the words were clipped, an even tone that made Will’s heart nearly stop in his chest. 

Will nodded mutely, his lip still trapped between Hannibal’s fingers while two of his other fingers sank back into Will’s body. His spine sparked with pain-tinted pleasure when Hannibal immediately went for his swollen, sensitive prostate. 

He tried to reach out to Hannibal, tried to drag his palms down the broad expanse of the man’s silver-haired chest, only to have his lip released and his hands slammed to the mattress, a large palm wrapped tight enough to grind the delicate bones of his wrists together. The message was clear. _Stay_. 

“I would think a filthy little slut like you would appreciate being given so much pleasure.” Will felt a jolt of arousal even through all of the overwhelming need and the low-simmering fear that this might be the time he disappointed Hannibal; curiosity about what might come after that.

Hannibal didn’t stop, relentless fingers applying just the right kind of painful pressure to push Will’s body over the edge again, his cock dribbling pitifully against the smooth expanse of his lower abdomen. 

“Again,” Hannibal demanded and Will closed his eyes against the tears that stung at the back of his throat and threatened to fall. 

“Yes, Daddy,” he conceded on a quiet sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Honest people don’t hide their deeds.” Will quoted, the words from the book suddenly so apt as he tapped his foot one final time, this time while standing _inside_ the pantry, finally being met with a _thud_ as his foot connected with something more solid.
> 
> The hatch in the floor of the pantry almost seemed obvious, now that he was looking for it. Will didn’t even consider _not_ pulling it open, nor did he hesitate to descend into the dark underbelly of the house when he was presented with a staircase, though he _did_ pull out his phone to turn on the flashlight until he got to the bottom and discovered a lightswitch.

Hannibal lit his fireplaces even in the heart of the summer - Will suspected that he appreciated the aesthetic of an otherwise dimly lit room filled with the flickering warmth more than he minded the unnecessary heat source. The brownstone itself was slightly drafty, so the dancing flames didn’t make the room feel stuffy or uncomfortable, even as out-of-season as they were.

It was relaxing, even; Will found his shoulders dropping, his body lax as he drifted through Hannibal’s study, examining his bookshelves with interest. Hannibal himself had retired to the couch, tucked against one corner with a book that, to Will, looked boring as all Hell.

His attention was finally snagged by the tablet Hannibal had left sitting out on a side table. He snatched it up, fully intending to download Candy Crush, or some other such time-waste of a game, though his attention was caught again as he unlocked the device - unguarded by any sort of passcode - to find a tabloid already loaded on the screen.

 _TattleCrime_ was scrawled along the top of the article in bold white and yellow letters, swathed in a gaudy, eye-catching red. Just beneath the header was a headline in bold: _**Chesapeake Ripper Rips Another!**_ and then below it, just above a grisly, hi-def picture of a very _intricate_ crime scene: _Ripper Gives Public Defender of Accused Priest Last Rites ___

__Curious, Will scrolled down, his heart beating just a bit quicker as his eyes scanned the very _graphic_ photo accompanying the piece before scanning down to the actual article. He couldn’t stop the undignified snort that burst forth as he read the so very _bland_ insights of the tabloid journalist, falling onto the sofa and crowding insistently against Hannibal’s body until the man relented and slipped an arm around his waist._ _

__“And what has you so amused, distracting boy?” He murmured in question, eyes barely leaving the book in his other hand._ _

__Will was silent for a moment as he finished the article. “Chesapeake Ripper Rips Another,” he quoted drolly. He felt Hannibal’s body sit up a bit straighter, noted from the corner of his eye that he abandoned the book in his grasp to the side table, turning his attention fully to Will. “Tore out some poor bastard’s tongue and used it as a placeholder in a Bible.”_ _

__He snickered again, feeling only slightly concerned that he found so much humor in the irony of the Ripper’s latest tableau. “He oughta take this _reporter’s_ tongue, or fingers, _whatever_. She obviously has no clue what she’s talking about.”_ _

__He let out a sigh as Hannibal’s lips found his temple, then nuzzled into his curls. “And you’re so sure you do?”_ _

__Will scrolled back up the article to the picture up top, eyes slipping over every detail like a lover’s caress. “Duh.” He smirks, licking along his full bottom lip before pressing on. “She’s framed it as some kind of statement of vigilante justice, just because the guy happened to be defending that priest on trial.”_ _

__“You don’t think that’s why he was chosen?”_ _

__Will gave a derisive snort at that, shaking his head even as his eyes never left the photo, suddenly filled with an absurd and overwhelming urge to see such a scene in person. “No. No, all of that is negligible. Correlated, perhaps, but not -” Will huffed, redoubling his focus and actively opening his empathy to read what he could from the static scene. “That’s not the reason. The Chesapeake Ripper doesn’t _do_ vigilante justice. More likely than not, this man offended him in some other way. Wagged his tongue in just the wrong way. The accused priest isn’t the cause, he’s the cover.”_ _

__Hannibal hummed lowly, encouraging Will to finish his thought. “It’s like he’s toying with the FBI. Like with that judge he strung up in that misappropriation of funds case. The judge was _bought_ , he would have ruled in favor of the defendant when the dude was obviously guilty as sin. But the Ripper carved his eyes out, cut out his heart and scooped out his brain and stuck them on a scale. Justice isn’t only blind, it’s mindless and heartless…” _ _

__“Why do you think that is, Will?” Hannibal was _fascinated_ by this boy’s mind, by the connections he seemed to make effortlessly._ _

__“It’s not vigilante justice because it’s not justice. There’s a… a _righteousness_ in his kills, but not in the traditional sense. It’s more an elevation of life - and death - into an artform. Ripper kills are beautiful, not because the subjects are, but because they’ve been transformed in death.”_ _

__“You don’t refer to them as victims. Why is that?”_ _

__“Would you consider yourself a _victim_ if, at the end of it all, your life actually meant something? Hell, I’d be honored to be eaten by him.” _ _

__Hannibal stiffened but immediately released the tension from his muscles so as not to draw Will’s attention. “What do you mean, sweet boy?”_ _

__“Oh, it’s just a dumb feeling. It’s not in the papers or anything. But when I look at a Ripper tableaux I feel something _primal_. One of the staples of a Ripper scene is missing organs - I think he’s eating them.”_ _

__“That is quite a leap to make, Will.”_ _

__Will’s shoulders jostled against him in another shrug. His eyes remained trained on the tablet in his lap, his fingers ghosting over the image on the screen as though he longed to reach out and touch._ _

__“I make leaps that I can’t always explain, connections that happen too fast for me to even actively process. Sometimes -” Will shook his head and let out a soft, dismissive sound, abandoning his next sentence. Hannibal prodded him to continue. “Sometimes I think, if I could be there, really see it in person, that I could see _him_.”_ _

__Silence stretched between them for a moment before Will spoke again, confessional quiet, “Sometimes I think I want to.”_ _

__Intrigue and something that might have been excitement clenched tightly in Hannibal’s gut. “It wouldn’t frighten you, to face such a monster?”_ _

__“He’s not a monster. He’s an artist.” Will stiffened then, body frozen for five solid seconds before he abandoned the tablet to the couch next to him and sighed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t say those things out loud.”_ _

__Hannibal stroked his thumb against the sharp jut of Will’s hip through his slacks. “Why’s that?”_ _

__“Most people don’t exactly understand. Most people don’t take kindly to hearing someone wax poetic about a serial killer.”_ _

__“I’m not most people,” Hannibal pointed out softly. “And I would never damn you for the way your uniquely brilliant mind works.”_ _

__Will sighed and relaxed once more into Hannibal’s embrace, dropping his head down to nuzzle against his shoulder. “I know, Daddy.”_ _

____

\---

Molly Foster was determined not to lose a battle of wills with a sixteen year old _child_ , but she was pregnant. And she was tired. And she was fed up with the attitude.

“Why do you even _care_ if I’m here or not? Just charge my dad for the block of time and then go, I don’t know, get your nails done? Do pregnancy Pilates. I don’t care.” Will scoffed, checking his pockets for goodness knows what. 

“And leave you to, what? Gallivant around town when you’re meant to be furthering your education? You still have three weeks left of the summer, Will. That’s fifteen lessons. Fifteen opportunities to expand your mind.” 

“I _have_ been continuing my education, don’t you worry, Molly. Just charge the time and leave me alone.” Will didn’t hate her as much as he’d hated his previous tutors, she knew that much. But he was a rude, callous boy, using his empathy for cruelty more often than kindness. 

She’d had enough. “Will, if you leave I’m calling your father. I’ll tell him that in the _five weeks_ I’ve been here, you’ve been to exactly nine of our last twenty-five sessions. I know he threatened you with military school. I’d hate to see you sent there.” 

Will didn’t even look up from the phone he’d managed to find, turning away from her and towards the door. “Go ahead. Call him. Have a good day, Molly.” 

She sighed as she watched him leave, helplessly looking from his retreating back to the post-it stuck by a magnet to the refrigerator, _daddy_ scrawled in sloppy black ink across the yellow paper. 

She pulled out her phone and dialed the number, preparing herself to speak to her employer about his errant kid.

\---

Will waited patiently on Hannibal’s doorstep, though his stomach twisted with anticipation just as it always did at the prospect of seeing his Daddy. He could let himself in, probably find the beautiful older man in his kitchen - Hannibal never kept his door locked when he was home - but he knew that it pleased him when he was polite, obedient, and so he waited.

He lingered under the awning of the front door, safely in the shade from the blazing afternoon sun and imagined, not for the first time, that when Hannibal opened the door, his _home_ to him, that Will would find the nerve to take a bold step forward, to press himself against Hannibal’s strong, broad chest and push up onto his tiptoes to lay a kiss to his Daddy’s cheek in greeting; maybe even his lips.

Hannibal had pressed his lips to nearly every inch of Will’s body. Just recalling that was almost enough to bolster Will’s confidence - the man was _obviously_ attracted to him, relished in winding Will up and keeping him on edge for hours. Will wished that it was enough, but every day that passed without that next level of intimacy set Will on edge, made him feel as though he was deficient in some way. Hannibal found him interesting enough to keep him around, but not desireable enough to kiss or fuck, apparently.

He would do it this time, he had decided. He would bolster himself with a confidence that he didn’t truly feel, slide up to Hannibal with a cheeky grin and take what he wanted.

The door opened abruptly, and Will was left bereft when he was greeted by the stern face of his Daddy. He’d rarely seen him properly angry, but the darkness in his eyes was seeping out, and Will had the insane urge to _run_. 

“Hi, Daddy,” he tried, but was met with a slow blink and a further opening of the door so he could slide inside. 

“William, go to my study and wait for me there.” _William_. Use of his full name was never a good sign. Hannibal rarely used it, had actually taken Will’s preference into consideration all those weeks ago when he’d first asked to be called Will, only using William to put distance between them. To punish him. 

All of Will’s bravado fled him and he suddenly found himself filled with uncertainty, shuffling from foot to foot in the middle of the foyer. He had the absurd notion that he was _in trouble_ , and the sudden shift loosened his tongue and Will found himself blurting out, “Why?”

Hannibal’s spine stiffened even further, if it were possible, and the way he tilted his head slightly to observe Will with curiosity made him think of a cold-blooded snake, frozen and eyeing its prey, just waiting for it to wander within striking distance.

“I beg your pardon, William, did you just _question_ a direct order?”

“Sorry, Daddy,” Will mumbled, realizing a losing battle when he saw it. He had no idea what had the man so frustrated, but he didn’t want to add _more_ to the blazing inferno that was Hannibal’s rage. 

So, he went to the study, kneeling by Hannibal’s usual chair in the hopes that being preemptively submissive would garner him some sort of favor. 

“Perhaps if you were this well behaved all the time, we wouldn’t be here right now, William.” Hannibal strode into the room with his medical bag in his left hand and an old school wooden ruler in his right. 

Will’s eyebrows rose, confusion flickering across his features. What had he _done?_

“I received a call from one Molly Foster. She seemed quite concerned about your recent slew of absences and your lack of attention in the few study sessions you actually _had_ attended.” 

Will’s stomach dropped and a chill slithered down his spine. “My tutor? Why the hell - why did she call _you?_ ” 

“She was concerned, William. Concerned that you were wasting your father’s money, her time, and, most of all, your brilliant mind.” 

Hannibal set the bag on the floor next to Will and held the ruler out toward him, hovering just in front of his face expectantly. When Will opened his mouth, Hannibal set the ruler between his teeth.

“Concerns that I find myself sharing. Stand; against the desk there. Feet spread.”

Will swallowed what saliva he could around the ruler clamped between his jaws and took his position. He could imagine all too well the distasteful, disappointed glance Hannibal would sear him with if he returned the man’s tool _wet_ with drool. Hannibal dipped into his bag as Will undressed hastily but neatly, not needing to be instructed to do so.

He was familiar enough with how punishments worked.

Belatedly, he recalled leaving Molly in the kitchen as he flew out of his house, anxious to get to Hannibal all the faster. He had Hannibal’s number on the fridge there, aptly labelled as his _Daddy’s_ digits. He sighed internally as he spread his feet, making a mental note to remove that before his father returned. _That_ would certainly make for an awkward conversation.

He felt Hannibal’s solid warmth at his back, chest pressed close as he reached around to retrieve the ruler from Will’s mouth. He wasted no time in cracking it against each of Will’s inner thighs, prompting his legs wider apart. Will complied, grimacing at the smarting skin, and a moment later Hannibal was crouched below him, wrapping a length of red nylon rope around each ankle and joining it to the closest desk leg.

“Tell me why, Will.”

Will resisted the urge to shift his weight self-consciously - it would only wreak havoc on his balance at that point anyways. “I wanted to see you,” he answered in a shy murmur, unsure why he was embarrassed to admit it out loud. He hissed as the ruler came down upon the back of his thigh, clenching his teeth and the rest of his body as the muscles of his leg quivered with the strike. “I did!” he insisted weakly.

Hannibal stood behind him once more, twisted his free hand in Will’s curls and yanked his head back to place warm lips at his ear. “I won’t be your scapegoat, boy. I refuse to allow you to place the blame for your immature, irresponsible actions at _my_ feet.”

“I - uh -” Will swallowed harshly, his throat feeling tight and uncomfortable with the action with his neck craned back the way it was. “I don’t think it’s worth my time.” He gasped as the hand in his hair tightened, his scalp burning beneath Hannibal’s iron grip. “I don’t even need tutors!” He insisted on a pained whine. “I could have tested out of high school altogether if I’d wanted to.”

He swayed dangerously as Hannibal left him suddenly, painfully aware that his legs were strapped to the desk and would be no help whatsoever if he lost his balance. The older man crossed to the other side of the desk, gripped Will’s wrists where they had found mooring against the closest edge, and yanked them across the width of the desk. Will was forced to bend at the waist, his bare chest pressed to the cool, polished wood.

“I think I’d like to put that to the test,” Hannibal murmured contemplatively as he wrapped two more stretches of rope around Will’s wrists and down to the far legs of the desk.

Will was silent as he pressed his cheek flat to the desk so he could keep Hannibal in his sight as the man moved back around him, a hand sliding down the side of Will’s trembling thigh as he tried to maintain the uncomfortable position, muscles stretched taut and burning already from the pressure. 

“First year of the establishment of the Tribunal of the Holy Office of the Inquisition?” Hannibal asked, drawing the ruler along Will’s inner thigh and the heavy curve of his balls where they hung, his body tied in such a way that his cock was pressed tight to the edge of the desk, painful and unignorable. 

“Really? The Spanish Inquisition? How fucking apt.” Will snarked, realizing his mistake with the foul language right at the same time as Hannibal brought the ruler down in a harsh line of fire against his right ass cheek, in the cleft where his ass and thigh met. 

“Care to repeat that answer?” Hannibal asked, dragging the edge of the ruler along the line he’d made in Will’s flesh. 

“1478.” 

“Reigning monarchs at its origin?” Hannibal continued the line of questioning, a level of smug amusement in his voice that gave Will at least a little hope of how this all could end. 

“Ferdinand the second and -” Will paused, searching his brain for the name of the Queen. Anna. Maria. Isabella. They all floated through his memory but he couldn’t fully recall… 

“Maria,” he guessed, apparently incorrectly as another blow from the ruler landed against the unmarked skin of his inner thigh. He hissed in pain, trying desperately to squeeze his legs together but unable to accomplish the task with the ropes tying him down. Keeping him still. 

“Incorrect.” Hannibal moved in front of Will, taking his chin in a firm grasp and yanking him so he was looking up at Hannibal, tears already forming at his waterline from the discomfort and the humiliation of the position. 

“Isabella.” Will gritted out, eyes on Hannibal as he saw the man smirk. 

“Which one?” He tapped his fingertip lightly underneath Will’s jaw, moving his hand to Will’s hair in a harsh hold. 

“Does it matter?” Will huffed, and was met with a swift slap of the ruler against his face, not hard enough to leave much of a mark, but enough to make it evident that Hannibal wasn’t amused. 

“The first. Sorry, Daddy,” Will whimpered, looking up at Hannibal imploringly. 

Hannibal ignored the apology, pressing on. “What year was it disbanded?” 

“1834.” Will replied, letting the tears slip freely down his red cheeks. Hannibal’s ruler came down across his shoulder blades this time, shocking in their heat. 

“That was right!” Will pleaded. He knew he’d answered correctly. Why had Hannibal hit him? 

Hannibal’s soft chuckle sent a thrill down his spine comprised of both terror and excitement. “This is a _punishment_ , William. Correct answers will only do so much to stay my hand.” As though to emphasize this point, Hannibal brought the ruler down across Will’s burning ass once more. “Do you know any foreign languages, impudent boy?”

It was a threat as much as a question, and Will whined and nodded as his hazy mind attempted to switch gears as quickly as Hannibal had. “Yes,” he answered, slipping into the rough Creole of his youth, “I know a little French.”

His heart soared at Hannibal’s interested and slightly surprised hum, plummeting just as quickly when he questioned, in the foreign tongue, “ _Proper_ French, or boatyard Creole?”

Will’s already hazy mind spun at the question, the unfamiliar syllables harsh and heavy around him. Hannibal swatted him with the ruler twice more in the time that it took him to parse out the question. “Creole,” he answered on a whine, just as the ruler came down against his tender thigh once more.

Hannibal said something else, the words dripping effortlessly from his tongue, as though he were intimately familiar with it, his accent flawless. 

“Did you live in France?” Will found himself asking, curiosity burning nearly as strongly as the next several marks on his thighs that Hannibal landed in quick succession, layering them one on top of the other until Will was sure he’d broken skin, imagined he could smell the copper-tang on the air. 

Hannibal hummed again, a non-committal sound as he peppered several more swats to the inside of Will’s pinkened thighs, landing the final one directly against Will’s balls, forcing a hiss from his lungs and causing his body to seize up violently, muscles taut against his bonds. 

“In my youth. It was the home I knew the longest before moving to America. In many ways, one could say French is my true mother tongue.” Hannibal commented passively, but Will could hear the depth of the history there, the scars that marred Hannibal’s past. 

“Will you teach me?” Will blurted out in broken French, knowing that simply stringing the single words together would not make for a grammatically correct sentence, but that Hannibal would understand him all the same.

It hadn’t been his intention, but the impulsive question that slipped from his tongue had the positive effect of earning a pleased hum from Hannibal, as well as a soothing palm against his smarting ass.

“Your accent is atrocious,” Hannibal remarked. “It will take me months to school that Bayou drawl from your words alone. Though, you’ve managed to successfully to drop it when you speak English - mostly. Perhaps it’s not an unmanageable endeavor.”

“I’ll learn for you, Daddy,” Will promised sweetly. “No tutor could teach me like you could.”

His flattery only served to entice another smart rap against his thigh, but then Hannibal replaced the ruler in his hand with a jar of soothing balm and Will internally breathed a sigh of relief. When he was done seeing to Will’s marks, Hannibal announced it was time to prepare lunch and left Will strapped down to the desk with only a warning that lessons would begin after they ate, and that Will would find Hannibal far less lenient than his previous tutors.

His legs ached and burned with the stretch they were locked in, his wrists chafing each time he so much as twitched his hands until his skin was raw and nearly as red as the nylon ropes that held him. His lower stomach and hips were sore where they dug into the edge of the desk, and with his chest pressed against the wood, he felt as though he couldn’t quite catch a full breath. Even so, Will couldn’t recall a time that he’d ever been happier.

He was still floating when Hannibal returned to release him thirty minutes later.

\---

Hannibal had stepped out to go shopping for dinner, leaving Will to pour over _Wuthering Heights_ , the final book on his required reading list for the summer. He still had two weeks left before school started again and nothing left to do besides lessons with Molly. Lessons he had promised to dutifully attend for his Daddy.

He flipped to the back of the book, eyes skimming over the last page before leaning back in his chair, ankle wrapped around the front leg. In the six weeks they’d known each other, Hannibal had grown comfortable enough to let Will remain in his home, even while he was out. Though Will wasn’t sure he’d call it _comfort_ that compelled Hannibal to allow him to stay; more like some primal, animal knowledge that he needn't worry about Will, a fellow predator in his nest, but far less dangerous, young and inexperienced as he was.

He tossed the book aside on the kitchen island’s perfectly gleaming countertop, contemplative but also suddenly full of boredom. He didn’t relate to the characters, he wasn’t immovable or unchanging as the seasons, had never even felt dedication to anything in his life until - 

Until Hannibal. The man had awoken something in Will he couldn’t ignore, had stirred feelings within him that looked like love but felt like obsession, dangerous and darkly glinting in the back of his mind, always. 

He stood abruptly, the chair screeching across the floor as his ankle got caught and he went tumbling to the cold dark wood of the kitchen floor, catching himself harshly on his elbows. 

When he’d been far younger, when they’d still lived in the Gulf and he’d only just been an innocent truant skipping classes to visit the boatyards, Will had become familiar with construction. Some of the men at the docks would teach him small things, here and there, mostly to entertain him but also so they could show him how to fend for himself. The older men didn’t trust oil money, they knew how fickle it could be, how easily the oil could dry up, the economy could shift. There was a level of pity, Will was sure, in the lessons he was taught. 

But he remembered helping lay some flooring in the house of one of the fishermen, preparing for the summer with a new floor that wouldn’t warp from the heat and humidity. The floor had sounded hollow when you dropped something on it, the crawl space beneath working as a way to keep the house cooler in the blazing summer months. 

When Will fell against the burnt umber planks of Hannibal’s kitchen, the sound that greeted him was the same as when he’d dropped an entire toolbox on the freshly laid floor of Phillip’s new house; hollow and resonating. Why would Hannibal’s floor be hollow underneath? From the outside it appeared to sit directly atop its foundation. 

He pushed himself to standing, his eyes scanning over the floorboards of the kitchen carefully. There was a space beneath the house, but no obvious indication of a basement. It would stand to reason that whatever entrance might lead to the hollow place beneath the kitchen would be hidden away as well.

He circled the room slowly, frowning when he found no indication of a break in the floorboards. Having scanned the area twice, he leaned against the island and huffed. _Somewhere_ on the ground level there was access to the space beneath. A smile curled his lips as his eyes landed on the door to the walk-in pantry, recalling that the flooring extended into the small room.

He tapped along the individual planks with his bare foot as he slipped across the surface and towards the door, his smile only growing when he reached the pantry door still with the empty, echoing sound of the hollow-floor rising up like an aria. 

“Honest people don’t hide their deeds.” Will quoted, the words from the book suddenly so apt as he tapped his foot one final time, this time while standing _inside_ the pantry, finally being met with a _thud_ as his foot connected with something more solid.

The hatch in the floor of the pantry almost seemed obvious, now that he was looking for it. Will didn’t even consider _not_ pulling it open, nor did he hesitate to descend into the dark underbelly of the house when he was presented with a staircase, though he _did_ pull out his phone to turn on the flashlight until he got to the bottom and discovered a lightswitch. 

The lights flickered on with a burst of sound, flooding the room with the illumination of blindingly white halogen strips set into the ceiling, washing everything in a hospital glow. Sterile. Cold, at least several degrees cooler than the floor above had been, the chilled air raising the fine hairs on Will’s arms immediately. 

Heavy plastic drapes separated the wood of the staircase from the sealed, gleaming cement of the rest of the room. Will could hear the low, constant hum of a freezer and spied the door to a walk-in refrigerator at one end of the room. The rest of the room appeared modern with some industrial piping along the ceiling, seemingly separate from the rest of the house’s utilities. Stainless steel counters and storage were lined along one wall with several large, professional appearing appliances dotted around the center of the room. 

His eyes slipped from a bandsaw to the meat grinder that glittered under the harsh lights nearby. The entire set up looked more like the back room of a butcher shop rather than a suburban basement. 

He wandered aimlessly for several minutes, dragging light fingertips along sharp metal and thick plastic, eyes lingering on meat hooks that draped from the ceiling in looping ropes. The rusted brown flecked across the sharp hook closest to him sparked something inside of Will, a connection forming in his memory. Another lurid, sensationalist title splashed across a webpage, this one about a Ripper scene involving a local butcher, a man who’d been cheating his patrons out of money by offering them fake Kobe beef while charging the same price; his body strung up on meat hooks and left to bleed out in his own butcher shop, the blood dried against the cement of his back room, splashed up the walls, a dark copper-tinged brown by the time he was found days later.

The steel table standing next to the drain in the middle of the floor couldn’t be explained away either; a shiver spilled down Will’s spine, not, he knew instinctively, because of the cold. His mouth went dry as he stepped closer to the table bolted into the floor below, eyes lingering on the restraints set along the sides and foot. His heart raced in his chest as he dropped his fingertips to ghost over the cool surface, understanding hitting him like a freight train. The first _known_ Ripper tableaux, the _wound man_ , displayed simply on the table in his own workshop, all of the tools in the little shack driven into his flesh, between his ribs, into the empty cavern of his chest cavity. 

He didn’t hear a sound, not even breathing; Hannibal’s presence joining him was more a slight shift in the air of the basement, like static clinging in the air after a storm, his flesh pebbling and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck still standing at attention. 

“I meant what I said before,” Will murmured, eyes tracing the shape of a wrist restraint as his fingers conducted their own exploration. “It would be an honor to be eaten.”

His eyes slipped shut and he stilled as Hannibal settled directly behind him. Will could feel the warmth of his body radiating in the cool room like the summer sun, had to fight the instinctive urge to sink back into him. He trembled when Hannibal’s hands slipped over his hips, when he tucked his nose into Will’s curls and took a long, slow inhale, as though attempting to memorize his scent. He accepted his death; Will knew, at least, that he would live on eternally in the echoing halls of Hannibal’s memory palace, young and beautiful until the world turned to ashes and time reversed. 

“I know you did, darling boy,” Hannibal assured him, dipping his head to place his lips near Will’s ear. “But I haven’t wanted to consume you in that way since the first time you shattered to pieces for me.” Will stopped fighting the desire to melt into his monster’s arms, and let himself fall.

\---

Will watched as Hannibal diced a kidney into perfect little cubes. "I was right, then."

Hannibal barely paused, only a fraction of a second, but Will noticed, unable to pull his eyes from the man's beautiful hands; hands that had _killed_ , probably just as many lives as they’d saved, maybe more. Hands that had _transformed_ the ugliness of the world into beauty, grotesque and obscene and radiantly wonderful. "You were."

Will had almost forgotten his original question, lost in the veins that snaked their way up Hannibal’s hands, the muscles flexing in his wrists, delicate bones wrapped tight in lightly sun-kissed skin, they’d been spending a lot of time in the back garden during the last weeks of summer. 

"You've been feeding them to me." The observation was devoid of emotion, no judgement or anger. It was a statement of fact. He knew, with the same instinctual drive that animals possessed, that this man, this _monster_ , was the apex predator in the room; had been providing for Will and himself in the simplest, oldest way he knew how. With blood and claws and teeth, home and hearth. 

Hannibal appeared nonplussed by the question, he likely had expected it eventually, though perhaps not this soon or this directly. Will always loved the small smirk that upturned Hannibal’s lips when he’d done something pleasing or surprising. "I feed them to everyone." 

A simple enough response, equally as expected by Will as his question had been by Hannibal. He thought back to countless meals together, a procession of nameless, faceless plates heaped and overflowing with _life_ , the death captured and held behind their teeth as they’d chewed. 

Something far too akin to happiness filled his belly with a heavy, radiating warmth, pulled a smile of his own to his lips, exposing his teeth. "Can I help with anything?"

Hannibal never stopped what he was doing, cutting perfectly straight lines through the meat they’d selected together from the basement stores. “With dinner or with the procurement of future ingredients, sweet boy? You’ll need to be more specific.” 

It took Will a moment to process the suggestion, but once he had, his body felt too light, as though he might be in a dream. The thought alone of watching Hannibal - the _Ripper_ \- do what he did best made his stomach clench with an elated excitement. The idea of _helping_ him, of being found _worthy_ enough to do so, sent his head spinning. 

The fact that he would feel comfortable taking a human life, that he was fairly certain he wouldn’t feel any guilt over it, was something Will had known about himself for quite some time. He’d never had any active desire to do so, though many a violent thought had made themselves comfortable in the welcoming dark of his keen mind. He’d known from the moment he found Hannibal online that he presented Will with an opportunity; he’d just not known how true that was at the time.

Will wet his lips and curled them into a coy smile as he drifted closer to where Hannibal stood. “Let’s start with dinner and work our way up, shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let me be yours,” Will pleaded brokenly, tugging against Hannibal’s hold in an attempt to draw closer once more. “I need it,” he whined helplessly as his doubts surged up and threatened to swallow him again. “Please make me yours, please -”
> 
> “You devastatingly lovely, petulant thing,” Hannibal purred lowly. He pulled Will closer, his gaze heavy and piercing. “You already _are_ mine. You always _have_ been.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thank you all for your support via comments, kudos, bookmarks and subscriptions. The response to this fic has been phenomenal, and we are SO glad you've enjoyed reading as much as we enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Rest assured, this is not the last we will see of these two. Feel free to follow us on social media and join our Discord server (links in the end notes) for updates and teasers on the sequel to this story, as well as other upcoming projects!

Will broke so beautifully for Hannibal, it was nearly addictive to watch him struggle. 

The boy glistened under a thin layer of salted-sweat, his unruly curls matted to his temples and his nape, skin flushed a lovely shade of pink, highlighted with the early morning sun that filtered in through the high windows, casting him in a rosy, cherubic glow. 

He’d moved him to his stomach nearly half an hour ago, after his second orgasm, making it even more painful for Will as Hannibal stretched him open one finger at a time, his oversensitive cock pressed tight to the mattress beneath him. 

“Daddy, please, stop,” Will begged and Hannibal smiled down at his heaving flanks with a level of fondness he hadn’t been prepared for. His boy really was gorgeous like this; desperate and wanton and so totally _his_. Every part of him belonged to Hannibal, responding to his Daddy’s demands, to his every whim. 

“What will you do for me to stop, Will?” Hannibal was an exceedingly greedy man, and while he could watch Will come apart for him just like this for the rest of the day, he had a few other plans he would love to try. His purpose was never to fully break the boy; he would bend him, he would reduce him to a creature of nothing but desperation and need, but he preferred him whole. 

“Anything, Daddy, anything,” the words were barely audible, Will’s throat shredded from his cries and from the enthusiastic blowjob he’d given Hannibal the night before in order to gain entry to Hannibal’s bed, still sheepish and demure after being caught in Hannibal’s basement. He’d known he was being the wrong edge of too rough with the boy, but he couldn’t be blamed when this was the result. 

“Whore,” Hannibal accused fondly, bringing his hand down hard on Will’s pert ass, watching the skin ripple and his thighs clench, his inner walls contracting beautifully around Hannibal’s fingers. 

He didn’t speak again for several long moments, focused solely on the place where his fingers sank into Will’s willing body. He wondered how far he could push him, how full he could make him before he was begging and on the edge of broken. 

Hannibal leaned over Will’s prone body and retrieved the lubricant from the topmost drawer of his bedside table, opening the cap and pouring a copious amount over his fingers and Will’s hole. He kept up the pressure on Will’s prostate, watching as his entire body drew taut and listening to the breathy, disbelieving sound of his third orgasm of the morning. He mourned the fact he couldn’t see it more closely, couldn’t see whether the boy had come dry yet or whether his cock still dribbled out a pitiful stream of release. 

He pulled his fingers out entirely and smirked at Will’s exhausted cry and mumbled _thank you, Daddy_. Let him rest long enough to believe that, perhaps, it was over, before he came back with three fingers, curled as closely together as he could manage. He pressed them to Will’s red, abused opening and watched with rapt fascination as they slowly began to sink inside him. 

Will’s body was so small, still developing, and even three fingers felt _crushing_. Hannibal didn’t need to try and seek out his prostate with the pressure and fullness of his fingers, his knuckles brushing it without effort. He couldn’t even fit them all the way inside the boy without concern for damaging him. And Hannibal didn’t damage his property. 

“Daddy!” Hannibal grinned as Will cried out, his struggling starting anew. He contemplated restraints, but he loved to watch his boy suffer, struggle and then, finally, relent. 

“You will take as much as I give you, and you will be thankful that I don’t beat you until you’re a bleeding, broken thing, boy. I don’t appreciate you taking such liberties with my home, going where you know you don’t belong. I’m very disappointed.” 

Will let out a pitiful sob at that, and Hannibal knew his disappointment was a far crueler punishment than any physical torment he could visit upon the boy. He took a moment to admire Will as he lay stuffed full with his fingers, couldn’t help but imagine what it might be like to stuff him full of his cock. Hannibal had never waited so long to fuck one of his boys before, but he found himself savoring the anticipation when it came to the brash little thing that was Will Graham. The boy was entirely too eager for it, _far_ too demanding, and so Hannibal had waited.

“I should keep going,” he mused out loud. “Stuff you so full of my fist that this lesson will stay with you for weeks.” He teased his pinky around Will’s swollen rim and flexed the three already inside him. There was no way he could continue without doing serious harm to the boy, and that was not the point of this exercise, but he enjoyed the way his small body seized up with terror at the suggestion of it. He prodded the tip of his pinky forward threateningly. “Can I trust that you will behave more appropriately in the future?”

Beneath him, Will sobbed and nodded.

Hannibal pulled his pinky away, spread his fingers one more time before slowly beginning to pull them out. “Remember your place here, Will,” he warned lowly. “And do consider what sort of fate might befall a boy that doesn’t meet my expectations.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Will croaked, heaved a sigh of relief when Hannibal’s fingers left him entirely. “I’m sorry.”

Hannibal clasped his hands around Will’s skinny hips and turned the boy over gently. His cheeks were smeared with tears and snot, eyes wet and red. His torso was covered in the seed Hannibal had forced from him, some of it still tacky with its freshness, more still had already dried white and flaky against his skin.

He reached up to push sweat-soaked curls away from Will’s forehead. “What a mess you’ve made. Let’s get you into the bath, hm?”

Will turned his wide eyes up at him, still shining with unshed tears. “Will you come too?” He rasped softly.

Hannibal thought about sinking into a bath with Will, his slight body surrounded by Hannibal’s, the utterly exhausted boy curled up against his chest. He found the idea surprisingly endearing. “I will,” he agreed. “Wait here.”

Hannibal took his time selecting the most appropriate oil to compliment Will’s wild scent, fragrant bergamot and clove. When he returned, the boy was still in the middle of the bed, looking for all the world like a lost lamb. Hannibal thought he saw fresh tear tracks trailing down the corners of his eyes, crusting like spun-sugar against his long, lovely lashes, shadows cast against red cheeks like spider legs.

“Come, darling.”

\---

Will’s entire body ached like a deep bruise, the space between his thighs felt gaped open even though he knew his body would have returned to a perfectly normal size by now. He’d never taken so much at once, hadn’t realized how _full_ he would feel, how hollow and empty it would feel after. He wanted Hannibal’s cock, more desperately than he’d ever wanted anything, but now worry sat bitter at the bottom of his belly. He felt like he’d failed his Daddy by not being able to take him. Had failed him the previous night by snooping, by not being able to immediately agree to a hunt with him. What a disappointment he must be to a man such as Hannibal Lecter.

Will had always seen the Ripper as a creature of lore, ink-black skin and eyes with beautiful, deadly antlers protruding from his skull. Last night, his vision of the Ripper and the _actual_ monstrous man that was his _Daddy_ melded together into something rapturous. 

That creature loomed over Will now, but then Hannibal’s voice came from its mouth and suddenly it was just the man standing before him after his quick return from the bathroom, and Will’s heart thundered in his chest. He couldn’t help wondering if this would be when his Daddy would finally be done with him, tossed to the side and discarded like all the other boys before him. Perhaps he’d drown him in the bath; Will had always heard it was just like falling asleep. He considered asking Hannibal to just kill him; he thought death might be preferable to being thrown away.

“Into the bath, sweet boy,” Hannibal commanded, and his voice was softer than Will ever remembered hearing it. But something in him told him not to trust it, not to believe he could ever be worthy of a man like Hannibal.

“Yes, Sir,” he spoke softly into the space between them, waiting for Hannibal to lead the way. Hannibal intentionally brushed against him as he walked by, fingertips trailing along Will’s bruise-littered hip. Will bit down on the little hiss of pain it brought to his lips, not wanting to further disappoint the man.

The tub was already nearly full when they reached it, and Will wondered at the time that must have passed. It had felt like only a few seconds since he’d last been full and desperate beneath Hannibal. He felt more than a little lost, floating in a fluffy haze. 

The bath was nearly too hot when he climbed in and sank up to his chest in faintly scented water, fragrant like spices. It was comforting, but even the warmth and the soothing scent couldn’t break through his discomfort. 

“Are you going to get in too?” Will asked, voice soft and small. He hated how broken he sounded. _Filthy. Whorish. Too needy. A disappointment._ The last word had never been spoken directly to him, but he imagined he could see it, shifting and vicious just behind Hannibal’s eyes, caught between his teeth. 

Hannibal didn’t reply with words, instead collecting a few more items and placing them in the tray that straddled the far end of the tub. It was deep, with a wide basin that could easily fit at least four people; the water barely moved as Hannibal stepped in and settled behind Will, proprietary hands on his slender hips. 

And that, the contact more than anything else, finally brought Will back to himself, the fog clearing from his mind for the first time in what felt like hours. He felt _grounded_ and precious. Coveted above all others. He moaned into the feeling, pushing himself flush against Hannibal’s chest and feeling the coarse hair that covered him as it brushed against Will’s back. 

Hannibal’s hands wandered, his fingers fitting into the slots of Will’s ribs like they were handles for him to move his body as he pleased. Those same fingers skimmed up Will’s sides, hands sliding around to his chest to circle nipples that had pebbled in the cool air. A shiver spilled through Will, his cock making an effort to stir between his legs, his breath caught in his throat as he tried to relax back against Hannibal even further. 

He spread his legs wide, utterly shameless, which only pulled a hum of laughter from Hannibal and caused him to move on, retrieving the sponge and lathering it up. He silently urged Will to sit up straight again and swept soapy hands over his slim shoulders and down his back, let his hands slide lower and lower until they brushed the top of Will’s ass and then rinsed away the suds by cupping water with his free hand and allowing it to trail down Will’s body. 

Will leaned back into him again the moment Hannibal shifted his focus to the front of his body, working the sponge in slow circles over Will’s chest and belly, down beneath the surface of the water to give a gentle, perfunctory scrub over his genitals. Will’s head tipped back against Hannibal’s shoulder with a soft moan, legs falling apart even wider.

“Please, Daddy,” he breathed, entreating. 

“Please what, my boy?” Hannibal teased him, and Will had had enough. After the darkness of his thoughts only moments prior, and the desperation that only seemed to grow from the pit of his stomach and spread out through his entire body, he couldn’t wait any longer. He wanted to be Hannibal’s boy. Totally and completely. Wanted his Daddy to love him, to value him above anything and anyone else. He wanted to be _perfect_ for him. 

He whirled around in Hannibal’s arms, uncaring for the water that splashed and sloshed up the sides of the tub to spill out across the floor. He closed his eyes, unable to do this with them open, and found Hannibal’s lips solely by feel, smashing them together with no finesse or skill. 

He’d never been kissed before, had no idea if he would even be able to make it good for Hannibal, but he only knew that if he didn’t get Hannibal’s mouth on his he would simply _die._ That dangerous, deadly, _lovely_ mouth, all soft, full lips and gleaming, knife-sharp smirks. 

A grunt of surprise escaped Hannibal, and Will’s eyes flew open at the sound. He preened; he’d never managed to get such a reaction from the man before and he felt nearly high with the knowledge that he’d pulled one from him now. He moved his lips against Hannibal’s until a firm, wet hand wound itself into his hair and pulled him away forcefully, Hannibal’s eyes dangerously dark, a blood-stained night sky, as they took him in. 

“Let me be yours,” Will pleaded brokenly, tugging against Hannibal’s hold in an attempt to draw closer once more. “I need it,” he whined helplessly as his doubts surged up and threatened to swallow him again. “Please make me yours, please -”

“You devastatingly lovely, petulant thing,” Hannibal purred lowly. He pulled Will closer, his gaze heavy and piercing. “You already _are_ mine. You always _have_ been.”

The next time their lips met, it was because _Hannibal_ willed it, yanking Will the final distance and slotting their mouths together with purpose. The action, the declaration, sent such an intense wave of relief sweeping through him that Will couldn’t help but sob into it. As soon as his lips parted, Hannibal invaded, swiping his tongue across Will’s lower lip and then licking into his mouth confidently, tracing the contour of his teeth.

Will whined at the sensation and pushed himself closer, his fingers digging into the thick hair of Hannibal’s chest and clamping closed, desperate for any solid hold to ground himself. He moved his tongue against Hannibal’s, trying for all the world to let instinct guide him and not overthink in his inexperience. He didn’t even realize Hannibal had released the hold on his hair until both of his strong, wide hands were grasping Will’s ass and spreading him open; didn’t realize his Daddy had been hard beneath him until Hannibal’s hips were shifting and his cockhead was pressing against Will’s abused hole.

The groan that escaped Will’s throat barely sounded human, the fervent nodding of his head the only way he could convey to his Daddy how enthusiastic he was with the direction this interaction had taken. His breath fled him as Hannibal began to push in; slow, as gently as he could given the circumstances, but steady and unrelenting. Will gasped against Hannibal’s mouth and broke their kiss, his entire body trembling as he let his hips drop down slowly to meet him.

The soft sloshing of the water and Will’s labored breathing were the only sounds to break the silence around them. Will’s eyes locked onto Hannibal’s, found an unabashed hunger and unchecked fondness there and he let out a sob. Tears spilled over then, and one of Hannibal’s hands left Will’s hips to wipe them away as he shushed him; the action left his cheeks even wetter and his heart hammering at the tenderness. 

When Will’s ass finally met Hannibal’s lap completely, his Daddy’s thick cock stretching him out and buried as deeply as possible, Will fell forward, buried his face into Hannibal’s chest and _sobbed_.

“So full, it’s so good, Daddy, _thank you_.”

New tears eked their way from the corners of his eyes, running in salted rivulets through the tears already drying tacky on his cheeks. Hannibal leaned forward to lick a hot trail along Will’s jawline, cleaning his face of the tears and rumbling wildly against Will’s skin. 

“You undo my restraint, darling boy. You’re so good for me,” Hannibal thrust up into him and Will _keened_ when his cock slammed against his swollen prostate, his own cock throbbing between his thighs even though he’d already had three orgasms forced out of him. 

For Hannibal, he would do anything. Be anyone. He’d hunt with him if that’s what he wanted. If his Daddy wanted to see him spill over in pleasure again, Will would do it for him. He’d come a million times, kill a million people, if it kept Hannibal looking at him like that; like he was _everything._

“Daddy,” Will whimpered, tongue darting out to lap across Hannibal’s lips, a pitiful sound torn from his throat as one of Hannibal’s hands wrapped firmly around Will’s cock and started up a slow, purposeful pace. 

“You will come for me again, Will, because I want it. And because you belong to me, in all ways,” Hannibal commanded, leaving no room for argument. 

“Yes, yes,” Will was babbling, words leaving him in gasping breaths, running together in his desperation. It _hurt_ to be hard, and his stomach clenched at the thought of trying to find release again. But he would. 

“Wanton little thing, you’d give me anything I asked for, empty yourself out until there was nothing left, wouldn’t you?” Hannibal taunted him, his hand never slowing its pace on Will’s cock, even as Hannibal slowed his own thrusts into Will, his pace a slow grind that left Will constantly stuffed full and kept pressure on his prostate. 

“Anything, Daddy, take it,” Will promised, desirous with need, standing on the precipice of another orgasm already. This was what he’d wanted for months, to be Hannibal’s fully. 

Will couldn’t say why a kiss on the mouth and a cock in his ass made this situation any more permanent than it already was, but it simply _felt_ that way. Especially after the revelations of the previous night, after weeks of intimacy and understanding; of _seeing_ one another so completely. 

Hannibal reached between their bodies to where they were joined beneath the water and trailed a finger where he disappeared into Will. Will couldn’t stop the whine, nor his body’s instinct to squirm away from the touch even as his soul was shouting _yes, please, more_.

The tip of Hannibal’s finger prodded against Will’s rim, teased at penetration momentarily, before pulling back to rub at his perineum with slow, firm circles. The touch sent sparks of electricity arcing through Will’s body, made him shudder on Hannibal’s cock, arch against his chest and rock his hips with an increasingly fervent pace.

“Oh, that’s - _Daddy_ , I’m gonna come again,” Will sobbed, the new sensation overriding the pain of his overly sensitive cock, his swollen and abused prostate.

He gasped when Hannibal’s mouth met his throat, not to nip and suck and leave vivid marks as usual, but to press slow, wet kisses that lingered against his skin. When he’d worked his way up to Will’s ear, Hannibal’s hot breath flooded over him.

“Come for me, sweet boy,” Hannibal entreated, and for once it sounded more like a request than a demand. “I would like to feel you come apart around me.”

His words, his pleading tone, edging on desperate, was so intensely disparate from what Will knew of the man thus far that it sent him hurtling. He spasmed around the cock inside of him and wailed as his orgasm ripped through him, his sore cock pulsing with two pitiful spurts into Hannibal’s hand. His stomach clenched with pleasure, his heart sent racing, at the sound of Hannibal’s own groan, at the feel of the man’s cock twitching and spilling inside him.

“Good boy,” Hannibal breathed, and Will finally collapsed completely in his Daddy’s arms, hard, ugly sobs wracking his body as his mind spun endlessly, as endorphins flooded his system, feeling more like poison in his blood than anything after being sated on them so often in one morning.

Hannibal’s arms encircled Will at some point, pulled him tighter against his furred chest, safe and solid; Will sobbed all the harder for it.

“I’m good, I’m _good_ ,” it kept falling unbidden from Will’s lips like a chant every time he was able to take a breath deep enough to form words on, and Hannibal shushed him, stroked fingers softly through his hair and agreed.

\---

Hannibal was not a man of regret or guilt; they were useless emotions, indulgences of those far too burdened with humanity, made weak by the shackles of society.

But he felt something far too closely akin to guilt at letting Will leave after their first time together. 

The boy had clearly been emotional, dangerously close to dropping if he hadn’t already. Hannibal had seen the emotions warring across his face, the flicker of joy at their closeness nearly immediately swallowed by insecurity and open, obvious fear; not at what Hannibal was, no. The boy didn’t _believe_ in Hannibal’s regard for him, didn’t believe himself good enough for his praise, for his _love_. 

Love, a concept that had felt like an ill-fitting suit to Hannibal for so long, another useless emotion that humans tended to toss around freely, misusing the word and jumbling the emotions into something banal, not even remotely reflective of what he felt for Will Graham. Society would tell him he was wrong to crave a boy such as Will, one so young and so relatively inexperienced compared to himself. He’d be condemned for his desperate _need_ to see the boy, to feel him beneath him, to own that beautiful mind just as completely as Will seemed to own Hannibal’s. 

But love him, he did. In the possessive, feral way that animals loved. His perfect mate, not because they were the same, but because they were identically different. 

Hannibal should have exposed Will’s mumbled excuse about a lesson that afternoon as the obvious lie that it was. He shouldn’t have let him walk away, but he had. He _had_ , and now he was left feeling an unease, a hollowness between his ribs that he hadn’t experienced since his youth. Since Mischa. 

It had been two weeks since he’d seen his boy; his calls and texts left unanswered. It had taken every ounce of his willpower to keep himself from simply going to Will’s home, to his school, and forcing himself back into his life with blood and violence if necessary. He’d let the boy know exactly what sort of monster he now belonged to; a possessive, jealous creature with teeth and claws and a hollow, cavernous blackness where his heart should be. It was dangerous, what he felt for Will, already. Incomprehensible, almost, and certainly inconvenient, yet somehow unavoidable.

Instead, he spent his time as he had before the boy had decided to carve out a piece of it for himself. Hannibal read, composed on his harpsichord, cooked dinner for one. He did a few sporadic streams on his cam site, his eyes wandering frequently to the list of users online, but of all the familiar names on the list, Will’s was not among them. When he attempted to search out the username to see when it had last been logged in, Hannibal discovered the entire account had been deleted.

It was a late Saturday evening, the sun already tucked behind the skyline, the haze of twilight settled over his study as he gazed into the fireplace when his phone rang, breaking a silence he refused to acknowledge as brooding. He had a tumbler of his favorite bourbon grasped in loose fingers, and nearly lost it all to the floor when he saw the name that flashed across the screen. 

_Will._

He answered on the second ring. 

“Daddy,” his boy gasped, voice sounding panicked, on the edge of delirious. “I - I’m sorry, I -”

“Breathe for me, darling. Slowly,” Hannibal was already standing, pulling his keys from their location in the entry hall and out of his front door before Will had even reached three inhales. 

“I didn’t m-mean to,” Will sobbed down the line and Hannibal’s heart clenched. 

He knew precisely where Will lived, had known since their first interactions on the website, something that felt like it had happened years ago rather than mere months. He also knew where his boarding school was, and found himself at a loss as to whether his boy was at home or at school. 

“Where are you, my sweet boy?” 

“Home.” Was the hiccuped response he received, the only piece of information he needed in order to get to Will. He slammed his door shut a bit harder than necessary, relished in the sweet little gasp the sound pulled from his darling creature.

“I am on my way, Will,” Hannibal reassured him, driving faster than was strictly legal. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was just a boy, his monster throwing itself against the bone cage of his ribs, snarling its rage and clawing up Hannibal’s throat. “Just breathe.” It was a reminder to Will as much as himself.

He spoke in a soft, soothing voice for the twenty minute drive that he managed in ten, noticed that he’d not heard Will’s shaking, snuffling breaths for the last few minutes and snarled when he realized the call had disconnected. He left the car door open and the keys in the ignition, walking briskly up the front steps, pushing open the unlocked front door without a thought.

Hannibal could systematically flay a living victim, could rip out a man’s throat with his teeth without even the slightest elevation of his heart rate, but when he stepped into Will’s foyer to the sight of blood-painted marble, the muscle stalled so abruptly in his chest that it _ached_. 

It beat a thundering cadence against the cage of his ribs, tapped out the staccato of the only question Hannibal could form. 

_Where is his Will?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you enjoy our collaborative works you should follow us on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/BellaRaiWrites) and [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/bellaraiwrites) for all sorts of extra content and teasers!
> 
> We also have a [Discord server](https://discord.gg/jhdDeAn) where you can chat with us, throw us prompts, and post images/art inspired by our work! You may also catch a snippet or two of some WIPs!
> 
> 'Til next time! 💚💜 BellaRai


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